


A Face Like Sunshine, Eyes Like Winter

by Marvel_Obsessed_Maven



Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Marvel Cinematic Universe Fusion, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Civil War Team Captain America, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Grief/Mourning, Pre-Black Panther (2018), Slow Burn, Trauma, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, winterprincess
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-06 00:53:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 80,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25960870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marvel_Obsessed_Maven/pseuds/Marvel_Obsessed_Maven
Summary: AU. Bucky/Shuri. My take on Bucky's recovery in Wakanda and the era of The White Wolf, specifically how he became Princess Shuri's champion, protector, and eventually, her lover. No underage anything. Slow burn friends to (age-appropriate) lovers.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Shuri, James "Bucky" Barnes/Shuri
Comments: 148
Kudos: 154





	1. Eyes Like Winter

**Author's Note:**

> My AU version of the Winter Soldier (a.k.a. Ingcuka, The White Wolf)'s recovery in Wakanda, focused on two of my favorite MCU characters - Bucky Barnes and Shuri.
> 
> A slow-ish burn.
> 
> As much therapy for me as it is a way to pass the time.
> 
> I do research to the best of my ability (Wakanda itself and the real-life region it is supposedly in), but I fully expect I've gotten something wrong.
> 
> Thanks for reading. Please let me know what you think.
> 
> -MM

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story plays with the timeline you're used to from the films, FYI. I stretch one day into several where I feel it's necessary, and I will try to indicate that as we go.

By the time she was two, Shuri and her Baba had a secret ritual together.

At first, the busy king's way of bonding with his little _ilanga_ as often as possible while he had a kingdom to run. As she grew, however, it became so much more than that.

Whenever the world's noise closed in on her, or she was frightened by her own overwhelming intellect, or got lost inside her constantly working mind, Baba would insist that they look into each other's eyes, shut out the world, and communicate their true feelings without words.

Shuri is close with her big brother and even closer with her mother, but no one could get through to her like her Baba when it came to her brilliant mind.

With his extra care, she learned to ground herself, back herself. By the time she was ten, she'd become totally unashamed of always being the youngest and smartest (and often wittiest) in the room. And all her life, whenever she was uncertain, all she had to do was look into Baba's eyes. There, she _always_ found his heart (and the truth), waiting for her. Where the world saw a warrior, beloved king and respected diplomat, his _ilanga_ Shuri only saw a father who loved his daughter more than his own life.

Saying goodbye to Baba's proud, loving eyes is perhaps the hardest thing Shuri's ever done.

Many nights, while T'Challa was away seeking vengeance for their father's murder, Shuri and Ramonda cried themselves to sleep holding each other. Unbeknownst to the Queen Mother, however, the Princess would often end up awake with her mind running in circles. With nowhere to direct her thoughts, she would sneak away to her lab.

She told OKoye she needed to distract herself by finishing the humanitarian work she started with Baba before all of this, but she hasn't even been thinking about it. Instead, Shuri started pouring over every known detail of the U.N. attack. Including everything S.H.I.E.L.D. released about The Winter Soldier. And every night since, her obsession has only grown.

At first it was out of anger with T'Challa for excluding her from his mission. But the more she uncovered, the more her insatiable curiosity took over, pulling her deeper into a well of American v. Soviet (really S.H.I.E.L.D. v. HYDRA) history, years of war, experimental weapons, and how it all fed into the impossibly high political stakes surrounding her father's death. Finally, she had found her purpose, working her way through sleepless nights, preparing for her brother's return.

Before he died, Baba would visit her at her lab on nights like tonight, keenly checking on her progress. He tried to disguise his paternal pride as a king's desire to make sure Wakanda would be represented well, but he could never fool her.

In the present, she wonders what he would think of what she's doing now, if he was alive to see.

 _If Baba was alive, you wouldn't be doing this_...Shuri thinks wearily as she blinks away the tears threatening to overwhelm her vision.

The hologram of her father stares back at her; him but _not_ him. His eyes cannot see her now. They cannot reassure her.

She has nowhere to ground herself except this work. Yawning and rubbing the fatigue from her eyes, Shuri sits up straight at her lab station. She observes the time as she stretches her arms stiffly, high above her head. Listening for the tiny cracking sounds as her joints find release. Once done, she reaches out in front of her, "grabbing" the truncated data scrolling across her holoscreen, and spreads it out wide with outstretched hands.

Eighty years of information on The Winter Soldier, formerly known as Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, orbits her like a solar system. Her latest (and, she suspects, biggest) challenge. A very, _very_ broken white boy in need of fixing, according to T'Challa's last few messages.

Shuri, weighed down with weariness but buoyed by curiosity, takes one last look at her father's hologram before shutting it off.

Back to work. The assassin they call the Winter Soldier has something wrong with his brain.

It's a vault that needs unlocking. A puzzle missing most of its pieces. She has to find a way to get inside and undo HYDRA's damage. _Can_ she? If she can, the scientific world will go apeshit.

_One step at a time, genius...you don't even know what you're looking for yet..._

Pausing to drink some ice cold water and trick her body into carrying on with a few bites of fruit and cheese, Shuri goes over what she _does_ know for the hundredth time.

She knows of his involvement with Captain America against her brother in the civil war over the Accords her father had spearheaded. Thanks to this new development with Helmut Zemo, she now knows he was framed for her father's murder.

But he _is_ still one of the deadliest men in the world. She knows of some of his most infamous assassinations as The Winter Soldier. Including the parents of one of her idols, Tony Stark.

Thanks to some easy digging, she now knows of his history with Captain America while part of The Howling Commandos in World War II. Twice, he'd been taken as a prisoner of war, experimented on, brainwashed, and over the last five decades, made to do _terrible_ things.

The reality of who she's dealing with doesn't frighten Shuri. It makes her determined, as does any situation where she knows she'll be underestimated; doubted, even. Her father taught her her confidence, her fearlessness. It's the only way she can manage her grief, with a puzzle so big and seemingly daunting that it will take all her expertise; all her focus; to solve it.

 _You represent Wakanda_ , she heard her father's grave words in her mind. _The world sees who Bast chose as her kindred through your gifts, my sweet ilanga. Show them who we are. Who_ _ **you**_ _are._

Shuri's mind is made, she just needs to convince her brother that she's uniquely positioned to be the one person in the world a man like that can turn to for help.

He's broken. She will fix him. It will be up to him afterwards how he intends to redeem himself for what he's done. Maybe, in the end, he'll decide to help her brother and the Avengers right the wrongs HYDRA inflicted on the world, and by extension, her family. At the very least, she hopes she can make her father proud.

Shuri leans back again, stretching her spine as she swats at various bits of data until she finds a video clip from a Smithsonian-owned documentary on the Howling Commandos.

In it, the elite squad of nine were being followed around the Alps as they fought their way through HYDRA blockades to raid bases and free POWs.

The footage is old, grainy, void of color, silent. But fascinating.

She watches as Captain America and his men dig into a trench, hunkering down until enemy fire pauses long enough to give them an in. He gives a quick signal and they charge full on, taking down the last of some HYDRA base's sniper offense posts. She gets a good, long look at Barnes as he dives in to protect the documentarian from heavy gunfire.

The reel spins and skips, then settles. Now she's shown an encampment somewhere deep in the winter wilderness, where the Commandos are resting before they set out for the next HYDRA base outside Munich.

She's studied this a dozen times by now, but she always discovers new details with each viewing.

When they aren't fighting for their lives in a devastating war, they seem like just a bunch of young men living as if their present moment is all they have. Rogers and Barnes are very close, Shuri can tell. They stay near each other in the group; Barnes is usually alongside or no more than a few paces behind Rogers; they even mimic each other's mannerisms on occasion.

In this section of footage, the Commandos are trying to lure a small pack of wild wolves out of hiding. There is no trace of fear on a single soldier's face. More like...recognition. Connection.

Rogers does dutifully attempt to get them to reconsider (or so she guesses; without sound it's hard to tell), but Barnes seems almost entranced. She watches him kneel at the edge of the camp a few feet from the forest wall, sinking his knee down into the snow, his breath fogging in front of him as he cautiously reaches a hand out to the alpha wolf.

Riveted (as are his fellow Commandos), Shuri watches the intimidating beast take one very cautious step forward after another. The wolf stares at the soldier reaching out to it. Sniffs the air. Barnes remains stone still, despite the fact that he must be freezing, and waits until the beast's snout touches his fingertips. The wolf sniffs at him some more, snorts, steps back. Cautiously inches forward again. Licks his fingers. Lets Barnes pet him. Licks the underside of his chin.

The woman Shuri recognizes as Special Agent Carter happens upon the group just then. The animal darts off with his pack as Rogers instinctively moves to shield her with his body.

Shuri rewinds and then pauses the footage. Studies Barnes's face as close as she can through the corrosion of the old film, even digitized as it is. He looks just as shocked as she is that any of them were able to survive an encounter with a pack of wild German wolves unscathed. Let alone coming that close to the alpha. It is something of significance…it tells her something about him. Perhaps something she can use to get inside his head and decipher what she finds there.

She can't articulate to herself quite what that something is yet, but she trusts herself to figure it out. Baba would, anyway. That comforts her somewhat.

Shuri stares a bit more at the frozen image of the young soldier watching after the wolf he'd just connected with...and she stares a bit more...and a bit more...seeing an open book and yet a deeply opaque mystery, until her eyelids grow so heavy that before she knows it...she is sound asleep.

* * *

_She's running through the dark._

_She doesn't know how she got here; her heart racing; panic, fear, adrenaline coursing through her every cell. Her path is dark, narrow, jagged. She tries to focus, but the sharp edges of the walls keep snagging at her clothing, cutting at her skin as she stumbles and bumps against them._

_There is light ahead. Shuri, in a haze of confusion and desperation, surges forward as fast as her slender legs can carry her toward that light. Her heart feels like it will burst from her chest; tears flood and sting her eyes...almost there._

_There is something behind her. Something big, fast, and snarling. It feels as if the thing's jaws will clamp down onto one of her heels and drag her back into the darkness any moment if she cannot move_ _**faster** _ _._

 _The light gets brighter, closer, rising like a steeple..._ _**a doorway.** _

_When she finally emerges, the beast chases her down, narrowly missing catching her; much closer than she thought, sending her into a frenzy of emotion. She can only see that she has come out of the Great Mound, where the fleet of Royal Talons are parked, and the atrium overlooking the sonic trains lies._

_Maybe she can get to one of the jets. She dashes with the last of her adrenaline, but it's too late._

_The shadow of the beast darkens her steps, having leapt into the air to take her down._

_She trips and falls, unable to see through her panicked tears anymore, rolling with momentum she can't stop toward the mouth of the atrium._

_There is a deafening snarl, and she crushes her eyes shut, unable to stand the sight of her fate - whether it be to perish from the fall through the Great Mound or the crushing blow of the beast's powerful jaws._

_She dies by neither method._

_Instead, as she dares to open her eyes again after rolling into one of the pillars at the lips of the atrium mouth, she sees that the beast is a great white wolf._

_Her enormous pursuer leaps clean over her, crashing bodily into the advancing white leopard she hadn't seen coming from another part of the landing zone._

_The wolf and the leopard clash violently - jaws, claws, snarling, roaring, dueling. They roll with each other, trying to claw or bite chunks from one another, the wolf clamping down hard on the leopard's gullet._

_Shuri looks on in shock until their fight takes them out of her sights._

_She lays on her back, panting hard, confused._ _**Get up, find help, find anyone.** _

_But there is no one when she finally manages to sit up. No living soul in sight._

_Shuri is getting to her feet again when the wolf returns._

_The enormous beast limps slightly, looking utterly exhausted from its fight, blood staining its white coat. Shuri is terrified, until the wolf turns its eyes directly up to hers. The wolf's eyes are large, deep, and the color of a winter sky. They are not the eyes of a feral creature. They are uncannily intelligent eyes. Emotional eyes. Eyes that seem to carry centuries of spacetime in their depths. She can't help feeling an overwhelming swell of empathy as she gazes into the beast's soul, her fear and panic disappearing._

_The wolf is battle-scarred. This fight wasn't its first._

_It advances weakly, cautiously, pausing just at her feet. It gets down onto its haunches. Bows its head._

_Shuri reaches out her hand. The white wolf rubs its head against her palm, allowing her to pet it around its crown, behind its ears. It is so big that it almost dwarfs her, but she can feel its gentleness, its reverence for her, the more she explores and caresses its thick coat._

_It was never chasing her, she understands now. It was urging her toward escape. It was protecting her._

" _Enkosi, ingcuka," she whispers as the wolf lowers its head to its paws, closing its wintery eyes. "I thought you were going to eat me, but you turned out to be just the protector I needed, didn't you?"_

_The wolf opens its eyes and licks at her palm, and then answers, "My Princess…"_

* * *

"My Princess? ..… _**Shuri.**_ "

Shuri is startled violently awake by Okoye's loud, urgent hiss. She is pulled from her dream, from the soft fur of the wolf's coat and the heat of his tongue on her skin like an infant pulled from the womb. The Dora General's firm hand gently puts pressure on her shoulder to shift her weight so she'll lift her face from the pillow of her arms.

"Ah! Bast!" A groggy princess jerks upright wobbly, squinting up at Okoye through bleary eyes. "What time is it? How long have I been…?"

"It's an hour past breakfast, which you should have been present for," Okoye steps back and lowers her head in salute before standing at attention again, unable (or unwilling) to hide the concern and impatience worrying her beautiful face. "The Queen Mother has been trying to reach you. She's worried. You've been working for almost _thirty-eight hours_ , Princess."

Shuri blinks, gathers her wits, and looks around, avoiding Okoye's fiery gaze. Her lab team hasn't arrived for the morning shift yet. The holograms of her Winter Soldier research are all still floating about in the same inert state that she last remembered before passing out. She'd been up all night, of course she missed breakfast at the palace with Umama. _Of course_ , Okoye would come looking when she discovered the princess missing from her rooms and unresponsive to kimoyo hail. She feels silly for forgetting all about her responsibilities to her family; her presence being missed - and _needed_ \- at the palace. Time means almost nothing when she's in her lab. She can easily wile away the hours without stopping for a week if they'd let her.

"I try not to force my will on you, Shuri," Okoye speaks again quietly, her voice a river tide of suppressed emotion. Shuri looks up at her, her older _usisi_ as much as a guardian and advisor. "I know how much your work means to you. But this cannot go on. Princess, you must rest. _This…_ " she gestures disdainfully with her spear at the holograms floating about, showing her war and chaos, colonizers and their immortal assassin, "this is no way for a child who is grieving the loss of her baba to carry on."

"I'm fine, Koye…just working. T'Challa needs my help. It's not like he gave me a lot of time to figure this out, you know?" Shuri murmurs tiredly, stroking her kimoyo beads to shut off all of the holograms at once. The frozen image of Barnes staring after the wolf is the last thing she sees before it blinks out of existence.

That must've been why she had that crazy dream. Watching and re-watching old war footage of nine beastly men from a different era over and over through the night. Maybe Okoye's right.

"But you are still grieving," the general insists firmly, her glistening eyes refusing to relent their hold on Shuri's attention. "Surely your brother understands that."

Shuri rubs her forehead and sighs. "Yes. But _you_ don't understand."

She stands, approaching Okoye, trying to get through to her. She's exhausted, she's emotionally stretched, but she's in charge of her own mind. No one could really understand what it's like when she's fixated on something but her Baba.

"I _must_ do this. Or I won't sleep. I won't be able to process. I won't be able to function if you don't let me work. _Please_. I need this."

Okoye is silent for a long while, raising her chin - on the verge of arguing fiercely, Shuri knows.

Shuri winces a bit, awaiting the onslaught, but Okoye manages to swallow down whatever speech she'd been preparing on the way over here. After what feels like forever, she relents, nodding shortly. When she speaks next, her voice is gentle, laden with a bit of weariness of her own.

"At least _eat_ something, for Sekhmet's sake. The Queen Mother will skin you alive if she finds out you've been skipping more than just your breakfast, hm?"

She taps her spear twice on the black marble flooring and three Dora appear, arms laden with wrapped food they'd brought from the palace.

As soon as Shuri smells the akara and moi-moi, her stomach growls loudly (drawing a twitch of a smirk from Koye's lips). She forgets about everything but eating, practically stumbling toward the small buffet gratefully. There's also an assortment of fruit, plantains, eggs, coconut rice and a furnace of hot tea.

"Is that my favorite tea? _Arrgh,_ I love you so much, Koye!" She pauses to hug Okoye tightly.

The general makes a face but accepts the affection. Relaxing only a little once Shuri lets her go, she taps for her Dora to return to their usual posts around the lab while the princess digs in. She carefully piles a plate with everything, sets it on her desk, and begins to fill her belly without pausing to breathe, she is so famished. Okoye looks on...soon unable to stop the thoughts from leaving her mouth as she watches (what she sees as) this practically starving child inhale her food with the kind of voracity that is unbecoming of a princess.

"The Queen Mother is very worried, Shuri."

Shuri sighs as she pours herself some tea, still chewing on a big helping of rice and plantains. "I know. But this work is important."

"Important to _whom_?" Okoye takes a step forward with indignance, gesturing with her spear to the world at large. "Your work in Lagos with your father - _that_ was important. Your designs for your brother and the protection of our kingdom - _those_ things are important. This colonizer's brain damage is _not_ our concern."

Shuri crushes her eyes shut, feeling them sting from exhaustion. "T'Challa trusts me to help him make things right. End the cycle of violence and vengeance all of this has wrought. Baba's death could have been prevented if only someone had been able to end it a long time ago…"

She knows her logic isn't exactly sound, but she's been going for hours and she doesn't feel like arguing with the general anymore. She doesn't understand, and there may be nothing Shuri can say or do to make her. Perhaps, once her work is finished, perhaps the General will be able to see why her Princess is so determined that _she_ will be the one to carry it out.

"And what about your duty to your country? To your mother?"

Shuri takes a deep breath, sets her teacup down, and turns to face her guardian Dora.

" _General Okoye._ I am a genius, a polymath, and one of the world's leading engineers. I have many duties. I can handle them all just fine. Umama _will understand_ \- _just_ as Baba did, and T'Challa - just as I _command_ you to, now."

This silences Okoye, finally. She stands up straight as an arrow, glaring down at Shuri's hands in her lap for a beat, before nodding and turning on her heel to leave the princess alone with her meal. "The Queen Mother expects you home before the sun sets. I'll have Naija stay to escort you."

She's angry, but she'll get over it. At least, Shuri hopes, in time.

She takes a moment to close her eyes and calm her mind. A few steady, focused breaths, and she feels a bit better. She finishes her meal, eating until she's full and energized, and sets back to work for as long as she has before has to return to the palace and face the music. She knows that her mother is only giving her this space because there will be a reckoning later on the matter of her insistence on working for days without checking in. Okoye is definitely right about that part.

Still, she is grateful for the extra time.

She doubles her efforts for the day, drawing out plans for the cryostasis chamber that she will have built overnight as an emergency priority. She's intent on doing much more, but she runs out of time. Before she leaves for the evening with the Dora, Naija, she admires her 3D-printed model of the chamber, a little scale model of the Winter Soldier set inside it.

Yes, this will be a challenge. Perhaps an emotional one, given that (as Okoye correctly assessed) she is still grieving. If there is one thing in this world of turmoil, war, heroes and villains that Shuri knows she can rely on, however, even if her emotions fail her, it's her mind. She will lead with that, and it won't steer her wrong. She's sure of it. She has to be.

But _Bast._

The last thing in the world Princess Shuri expects is to walk into her lab the next day to meet the man whose ghost stories she's been living with for over a week...

...and find him to possess a pair of the most gentle, nakedly lost winter blue eyes she has ever seen.


	2. A Face Like Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Bucky arrives in Wakanda, he is feeling suicidal and not at all expecting to be treated with kindness, after the things he's done. But Princess Shuri blows all of his expectations out of the water. She is kind, warm, and sweet. She gives him what he never expected - a reason to live, to fight, to see her sweet face again.

Bucky Barnes has come close to Death many times.

He has a headstone in Cypress Hills a few train stops from his old street in Brooklyn, he found out while piecing together his true identity. One of the last remnants of his old self etched deep into ashen stone. No remains buried beneath it, of course. Just an empty box.

That box will remain empty it seems, because every time Bucky Barnes dances with Death, he lives.

Some times were more traumatic than others. Those memories crawled out of the recesses of his mind as recurring nightmares in Bucharest and haven't let up since.

Death is a big tease. Like that old headstone. She would flirt. Brush against him. But she always disappears from reach before he can grasp hold of her.

Instead of eternal peace, all he got was a living Purgatory. Trapped in the body of the Winter Soldier. If not for ten insidious little words embedded deep within his psyche preventing him from doing anything but executing the mission at hand, he would've let himself be killed long ago. Whenever he closed his eyes and felt the searing rush of cryostasis, he used to wish for something to malfunction, cutting off his life support. Or maybe one day someone would find wherever they hid him and destroy him out of (rightful) fear of the unknown.

His wish was never granted. Only the last memories of his kills, imprinted in his mind's eye until he was eventually pulled from the void again. And again. _And again_ for over fifty agonizing years. Back to HYDRA's torture, their orders, more victims, and those ten little words.

He had dared to let himself hope he could escape the triggers when Steve Rogers walked back into his life, but Zemo unraveled that hope quickly.

They needn't put him behind bars. Bucky's mind is his prison. There's no escape. HYDRA still owns his soul, and he knows it.

By the time they reached Wakanda, he can't help that old checklist of Death wishes from turning on and getting noisier. _Maybe this time my age'll catch up to my heart and it'll finally give out. Maybe T'Challa will change his mind, hold a secret trial, and decide to execute me for my crimes. God, please. Maybe they'll just never wake me up again._

T'Challa is a formidable man, Bucky learned quickly (and kept discovering from their first fight to their last), but he's also a merciful one. Allowing someone like The Winter Soldier beyond Wakanda's forbidden borders after all he's done (brainwashed or not) is a testament to that for Bucky. This might be the only respite he can get, so he sits and awaits his fate in silence, letting his mind wade through a deep, ink-black lake of thoughts that have been growing darker for days.

"You sure about this, Buck?"

Steve's deep voice breaks the silence, bringing him back to the present. Bucky can't bring himself to tell the truth of what's clanging around in his head. Truthfully, he _isn't_ sure what they can really do for him here besides let him rest, but it's enough. It has to be.

"I can't trust my own mind," he admits quietly, wanting to say more. _I'm so tired, Steve. I don't know if I can take much more. I just want to sleep forever._

He won't say those things. Steve has too much concern in his eyes. _Hope._ He has hope. That little guy from Brooklyn hasn't changed at all. A super-soldier he may be, but inside he's still the same old Steve. It's been a long time, but that much Bucky remembers for certain.

"I think the best thing for everyone is for me to go back under…" _to die_ , he thinks, his brow furrowing. He offers his friend a lifeline. "At least until someone can figure some way to get rid of what HYDRA put in my head."

Steve nods, his azure eyes a window to the empathy and loyalty he still holds for Bucky. Maybe always will. _To the end of the line._

As much as it makes Bucky ( _Soldier, Asset_ ) yearn for some way of resurrecting _his_ old self, his current exhaustion, depression, and weak grasp on his own identity is too much to overcome.

"You're in good hands, then." Steve gives him a reassuring smile, squeezing his good shoulder tightly. "I trust T'Challa. They'll get you back, Bucky. I promise."

"I know, pal. I know..."

He maintains a brave face for his friend.. _.I still have a friend_...managing a somber smile as he watches Steve join T'Challa for a little chat before he goes under.

Now there's nothing but to wait. He lets his gaze roam his surroundings.

Like most everything else he's seen here, the lab around him renders him silent with awe. HYDRA always suspected there was something much greater than a tiny reserve of priceless vibranium beyond these borders, but could never infiltrate. He's glad they hadn't managed to use him to.

Bucky lets his eyes wander, getting lost in the sophisticated-looking tech and towering glass walls. This place is night and day from the rusting, dank bowels of HYDRA's Siberian bunker. He looks up at a set of ramps that form somewhat of a tilted helix with bright lights set into them, studying the intricate, vibrant native mural hanging in the eye of the spirals.

He's alone now except for a few silent aides and a handful of Dora Milaje. They're dividing their attention between keeping an ear out for T'Challa and keeping their one-armed "guest" in their sights at all times. He takes a moment to size each of them up.

They have him well covered. If T'Challa's style is any indication of how they train their warriors in Wakanda, fighting his way out of here would be very difficult in his current condition. One at a time, he stood a chance, but all at once, probably not. They could punch him full of holes before he got to the door. Good. He's curious about them, but there's nothing for that now.

He looks around some more. Whomever he's waiting for has done all of their homework, and then some. He stares at a hologram of decades-worth of his brain waves, both waking and in cryosleep. Another is cycling rapidly through data they'd collected on the super serum coursing through him.

He starts to feel overwhelmed, gazing around at his bloody history surrounding him on all sides. Including a holographic scroll of all of his known and suspected kills, ending with his updated status as no longer being the prime suspect for King T'Chaka's death. His eyes land on the Starks' faces. Briefly, his mind whirls toward _the sensation of Maria Stark's throat pulsing weakly beneath his constricting palm_ as he squeezed the life out of her.

Bucky feels his heart begin to thump hard. He flexes his remaining hand into a tight fist against his thigh, lowering his eyes to avoid looking at the Wakandans scattered around the lab. They're leaving him alone with his thoughts, but they had probably spent hours reading about what an efficient, elusive, unstoppable killer he is.

He doesn't even know them, but the thought of them fearing him (or of freaking out, himself, and actually becoming a threat to them) makes him extremely anxious. He tries to concentrate on sitting still, lowering his eyes from all the data about him floating around the room, his jaw clenched to hold himself in check.

Bucky longs for cryosleep as the seconds drag on. What the hell more is there for Steve and T'Challa to say? Couldn't they get on with it?

"Sergeant Barnes?"

The voice is high, smooth, and musical. Not what he was expecting.

His sharp eyes dart up to see a petite young Wakandan woman gliding into the room down the spiral ramp from another section of the cavernous lab above.

The Dora bow their heads in sync, whispering, "Princess..." in greeting.

The beads wrapped around her tiny wrist project a dossier on him as she comes gracefully to a stop in front of him. She looks up, and he sees that the face attached to that voice is also bright and sweet; angelic, even. He watches as she twists her wrist to shut off the hologram coming out of the beads. Her eyes meet his without a shred of apprehension.

She looks like she can't be more than seventeen; though her gaze is shrewd beyond her years, her eyes sparkling with...excitement? He can guess why. There was a movie he'd seen once...a long time ago in another life, the black and white images flickering inside his mind during restless nights on the run...maybe he was a child, though he can't say for sure... _a little girl offering a monster a flower by a lake_...and the girl's demise. To someone like this young princess, the 'Winter Soldier' probably seems like that monster did to the little girl by the lake. A dangerous curiosity.

Maybe the Princess of Wakanda has come to get an up-close look at the broken relic before her brother got back. An urban legend turned real story to impress her friends. Fine. He'll be in oblivion soon, so it doesn't much matter to him. She seems harmless enough.

Bucky takes a deep breath and sits up straighter. He nods in answer, silent, his eyes struggling to reconcile her small frame with their looming, luminous surroundings as she boldly takes a step closer. Even so, genial, dynamic energy wafts off of her that fills the room. Looking closer, he can see the family resemblance. She has the same shape of brow and cheekbones as T'Challa, as well as his pert but expressive lips. The similarities stop there. Her flawless skin has a bit more of a youthful glow. Intricately twisted braids rope down one shoulder, stopping at the top of her hip. She doesn't dress like any princess he's ever known of. Her slender frame is tucked into a vibrant purple wrap dress under a semi-translucent lab coat, polished off with pristine white high-top sneakers. His eyes rise to meet her face again, ending his quick scan of her outfit. She smiles warmly at him, clasping her thin, elegant hands together before extending one.

"I'm Shuri. T'Challa's my brother, but this is _my_ lab," she asserts, winking at him when he finally moves to take her hand. He can't help the little smile that twitches across his lips as she continues, "I engineered everything you see, including the cryo chamber. Naturally, I'll be overseeing your deprogramming. I hope that's not a problem for you, Sergeant."

She pauses, her eyes tunneling down into his, though her warm smile remains. If he's a little shocked at this revelation, he doesn't let it show on his face. She looks as if she expects him to have a problem with it. She's probably used to that from outsiders.

Princess Shuri's hand is small and as soft as satin but she squeezes his tightly, at least enough for someone with his strength to feel she's there.

"Bucky...your Highness," he manages to insist in a low, respectful voice, clearing his throat as he shales her hand. "I'm just grateful for your help."

"Good. And it's _Shuri_. Please." She looks impressed, her eyes sweeping across his face as she wags a finger at him. He's kinda taken aback by how warm and friendly she's being.

"Shuri."

" _Bucky_ , eh?" She says his name as if she's eating a new food for the first time and finding that she isn't quite sure about the flavor. _And she laughs at him._ A soft wind chime of a chuckle.

Bucky scoffs good-naturedly. "It's a nickname I got stuck with as a kid. Kinda grew on me."

"Hmm, it has a certain old-fashioned American charm, I'll give you that. Just give me time, though... _everything_ can be improved."

He finds her teasing oddly comforting. She's treating him as if he's just a regular guy, visiting her for a 'chat'.

When she turns to fiddle with some of the holographic data, he catches a whiff of something rich and naturally fragrant in her braids. After days and days of metal, blood, soot, gunfire, and the body odor of grown men on the run, the delicate fragrance feels like a breath of fresh air.

"I'm going to make sure your transition goes as smoothly as possible. It will take time, but you're no stranger to that, are you?" She explains in her melodic Wakandan lilt.

 _Transition._ Interesting way of putting it. Also, he's pretty sure she's called him an old man twice now within the span of a minute. He doesn't argue. For someone so young, she is effortlessly disarming. There's something about her voice that calms him. She commands his focus in a way HYDRA and its goons never could. With them, the threat of pain or being "wiped" always lurked behind their every word to him. This is... _so much_ different than anything he imagined he'd find here. His eyes follow her around as she explains what's about to happen as if she's done this a thousand times before. She speaks with passion and expertise that could give the so-called scientists crawling around his old bunker a run for their money, all while keeping her tone light and personable. Like she's sharing her favorite hobby with an old friend.

Everyone else here treats him with polite detachment; wariness. The Black Panther's charge; their first asylum seeker; the white assassin with the bloody past. He could just as easily be a threat as he is a broken thing in need of putting back together again.

But Princess Shuri...her energy is entirely different. She exhibits grace akin to her brother's, but decidedly more kindhearted. Maybe it's simply a byproduct of her youth, but he somehow doubts that. Either way, he accepts her graciousness. Clings to it, in these final minutes before he is sent back into the dark.

"I've already started researching deprogramming protocols so we can start testing, but they're not quite ready yet. T'Challa didn't exactly give me a lot of lead time." She frowns, her keen brown eyes examining the area where his cybernetic arm used to be. "I studied what they did to you in Siberia. That _wasn't_ science. That was just monstrous. Inhumane." Her accent dances prettily around the 'r' sounds in her statement, lulling his anxiety. She meets his gaze passionately. "You won't be treated that way in my lab. My people will look after you. _I_ ' _ll_ look after you."

Bucky is suddenly overcome with emotion. She doesn't know him at all, and yet her kindness flows freely, without restraint. He can't find words to thank her, so he sits silently as she continues.

"My goal is to make it _all_ less traumatic. Easier for you to adjust when you wake up again, for good next time, yeah? Until then, Sergeant, the least I can do is make you more comfortable while you recover."

 _Please, call me Bucky,_ he wants to remind her. _Please, just let me sleep forever. Tuck me away in a basement somewhere and forget about me_ , he wants to beg, but he settles for "...thank you."

No one had ever spoken to him about the details of his confinement in frozen solitude before. They just marched him to his perch, strapped him in, and counted down in Russian. Then the searing, paralyzing cold engulfed him; and the darkness; and that was it. His feelings, his state of mind, his comfort; none of those things mattered before. He was shut down and reactivated again like a machine, not a flesh and blood man. He hadn't expected this. To... _feel_...seen.

Bucky's immensely grateful, though he has no clue how to express just how much without breaking down.

Shuri takes some of his blood, standing close enough that he breathes in the comforting scent of her hair oil again. Her Dora Milaje guards watch him nearly unblinkingly so he stays as still as possible until their Princess is at a safe distance again.

She's gentle but quick; focused; authoritative, instructing her aides without missing a beat while they get the process started. He watches, finding that keeping his eyes on her rather than what they're doing keeps him calm, distracting him from counting the seconds until he's finally in the dark again. Maybe some kind of release as sweet as Death will find him in there. But for now, his sendoff would at least be in the safety of Princess Shuri's lab.

Bucky silently thanks whatever God there is up there for Steve for bringing him here, T'Challa for his mercy, and the young princess with the sparkling eyes singing orders around him for her acceptance and genuine kindness. If these are the last faces he'll be seeing before he sleeps instead of HYDRA agents, it's nothing short of a damned miracle.

Sooner than he anticipates, Shuri's doing her final check of the cryostasis chamber.

Her aides poke and prod at him, scanning him one last time for their data collection, or to perform more tests while he sleeps - whatever they need.

Bucky endures it numbly. Then finally Shuri instructs her aides to give him space. Though no one barks any orders at him in Russian, he knows the drill.

The former Winter Soldier stands up, walks slowly over to the chamber, and steps in. They strap him down, hook him up, and he assumes the position, waiting. Ready. So very tired.

He can see Steve through layers of glass, offering him a short, firm nod of reassurance. And next to him, a thoughtful T'Challa, his pursed lips pressed against his steepled fingers.

Shuri steps into his line of sight, gazing up at him. She looks curious...and determined. He briefly wonders what happy ending this kid with a face like sunshine could possibly be hoping to give him. _Would_ she wake him up for good one day? _Could_ she really free him? He has a fleeting thought that he might actually see her again. He finds himself hoping to.

Her aides pump in some sort of purple gas that he inhales...and instantly feels his entire body begin to relax. No sedative has ever been able to subdue him. The serum ensured that. HYDRA never used any on him. The pain was always part of the process. Now, however, Bucky feels almost high. Like he's floating. He wants to ask what the Wakandans have that is able to accomplish this, but he feels too relaxed to question it.

He stares at the Princess's face… _sweet_ , _warm_ , _like sunshine_ , he thinks. Not a bad face to close your eyes in eternal sleep to. Not bad at all. _Less traumatic, more comfortable_ , she'd assured him. Another thought manifests; a desire to hear her chiming voice one last time before all is dark and still. Somehow, whatever God still exists grants him his first wish in an eternity. She speaks again.

"I can't tell you how long this will take. But I _can_ promise you I'm the best brain to have on it," Shuri grins. "I'm gonna figure out how to free you. Until then, you'll be napping in the most secure lab on Earth. Sleep well...Bucky."

He smiles hazily at the way her nose wrinkles when she says his name. Instead of a searing tide that overtakes him before he can blink and instant banishment to a frozen prison, Shuri is making him feel like he's being tucked in for a bedtime story. The Princess has kept several promises already. He feels safe. ' _In good hands'_ , like Steve said.

Bucky keeps his gaze fixed on the Wakandan Princess until his eyelids are too heavy to keep open.

The purple haze has cleared as he inhales the last of it. He listens to his heart thumping slowly in his chest as the darkness reaches for him. Bucky is floating in an abyss before cryostasis is activated and the cold consumes him. Instead of entering cryosleep with nothing but tormented visions of his crimes, he goes under holding onto the image of the last face he sees.

An angelic face, full of kind energy.

Shuri.

The princess.

Smiling warmly up at him.

_Like sunshine._

Gazing into his eyes without a trace of fear.

Speaking to him like an old friend in her high, sweet voice.

_Bucky...sleep well...I'm gonna figure out how to free you._


	3. Ilanga and her Ingcuka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shuri's POV meeting Bucky for the first time. Even after the success of their first encounter, she is torn and exhausted. T'Challa and Ramonda remind her that her mind is not the only source of truth. When she takes their advice and turns to her ancestors, she sees a vision of her destiny with the White Wolf.

Shuri holds herself at her full height and walks as gracefully as she can in her casual high-tops, wishing to project nothing but confidence and hospitality. Showing nerves or fear is not an option. 

Four Dora cover her at every corner. She’s been assured by both her brother and Captain Rogers that she isn’t in danger...for now. There’s no reason to be nervous. 

She gets as close as she dares, comparing The Winter Soldier’s flesh-and-blood presence to the last known photo of him on her kimoyo beads. 

No hologram or grainy old footage can do him justice up close and in person, however. 

He’s almost as huge as Captain America, even missing his cybernetic arm. And...well...just as pretty. She’s seen him in digital form all week, but the reality of him is much more impressive. 

His expression is more than thoughtful, his thick brows furrowed deeply, his angular jaw set into a hard curve that jumps every few seconds when he grits his teeth. He’s anxious. He’s retreated to someplace inside until someone can coax him out. She aims to do just that, as well as keeping him calm and the freezing process humane. That’s her mission this morning. She had better focus on it.

“Sergeant Barnes?” she calls brightly as she approaches him. 

When he turns those eyes up to hers, she’s instantly struck by how vulnerable they are. They belie everything she’s read about the ruthless, legendary killing machine sitting before her. The same as that enormous wolf she thought was chasing her through the Great Mound in her dream. She has to suppress a shiver, remembering the dream vividly now that she’s trapped inside the Winter Soldier’s pale blue gaze.

He watches her approach, sitting up straight when he catches the Dora calling her “Princess”. 

His large eyes are framed by long, dark lashes and wavy brown hair, set into an almost boyish, angular face with a pronounced jawline and punctuated by full, heart-shaped lips atop a deeply cleft chin. His gaze roves over her, quickly assessing her, and he blinks with mild surprise once he reaches her face before nodding his answer at her in silence. 

Noticing how young she is, of course. That was usually the first thing people reacted to when they met her, given the kinds of rooms she’s found herself in since she was eight. That and her fashion sense (most of her clothing is one of a kind and of her own design).

Shuri finds herself nevertheless drawn in by what else she’s seeing reflected back at her in those deep winter skies of his. This man is practically (silently) begging for escape from his own mind. Either he can’t hide it because he isn’t aware it’s so apparent to her, or he simply doesn’t want to. She finds strong empathy rising within her for him, almost feeling she’s actually able to read all five decades of his torment inside his eyes.

Shuri pushes through her momentary distraction and introduces herself, making sure he understands that despite the youth he recognizes in her, _she_ is in charge.

“Bucky...your Highness,” he finally speaks, his voice softer than she expected it to be. His tone is actually respectful, another thing she hadn’t expected. “I’m just grateful for your help.”

“ _Shuri_. Please.” She insists, letting him go to wag a finger at him. Hopefully, she can get him to relax; think of her as someone he can trust and rely on, not just some geeky kid playing scientist.

He seems a little less stiff by the time she’s tested out a couple of harmless old man jokes and promises to come up with his official Wakandan nickname. She keeps him engaged while she works, shaking off her initial fascination with his vulnerable eyes to prepare for his cryostasis. 

She practices everything she read about not treating traumatized people like unstable anomalies, drawing away potential hyper fixation on an approaching event by finding ways to establish a personable rapport and some basic trust. She feels his eyes on her all the while. Whenever she glances his way, he’s dutifully paying attention, making it easier for her. If he thinks she’s full of it or out of her depth, he doesn’t show it. She can’t tell if maybe it just doesn’t matter to him who put him under, or if he’s humoring her because Wakanda is his only option left. Either way, he seems more relaxed, the way she’d planned.

Barnes sits disturbingly still when she needs to be closer to him than an arm’s length but keeps his focus on her obediently. She tries not to let her hands shake when he watches her draw his blood closely and succeeds in keeping her cool. 

Shuri relaxes when she remembers that he’s been programmed for complete compliance by HYDRA, so maybe she isn’t that amazing a nouveau therapist after all. He’s obviously just used to this. Waiting for the inevitable.

 _Get on with it, Shuri_...she scolds herself, picking up her pace.

By the time Captain Rogers and her big brother return to watch her activate the former Winter Soldier’s cryostasis, she’s beginning to see a bit of personality glinting back at her in those deep, lost eyes of his. There’s a bit of a drawl to the way he speaks, too. His Brooklyn accent fighting to emerge, maybe.

But he doesn’t speak much, and now it’s time to put him under. She watches carefully as they pump in a special sedative she had made from concentrate (chemically stripped of its super power-inducing elements) of the Heart-Shaped Herb designed to send him into a deep state of unconsciousness. As close to death as one can come, the way only its magic can render a person.

She grins proudly when it starts to work. She can see him visibly relax, his large, muscular frame deflating as he takes deep breaths of the improvised super sedative.

Before she can stop herself, Shuri leans up to him as one of her aides encloses him behind the protective glass of the cryostasis chamber. “I can’t tell you how long this will take. But I _can_ promise you I’m the best brain to have on it,” she allows her excitement about the challenge to show. “I’m gonna figure out how to free you. Until then, you’ll be napping in the most secure lab on Earth. Sleep well...Bucky.”

She feels silly saying that name, but it makes the Winter Soldier smile softly. Ha! She has managed to make one of the world’s most notorious assassins smile. A bonus.

When his vitals have slowed to a crawl and he closes his wintery blue eyes, Shuri gives the go-ahead to freeze him. 

It wouldn’t be very long at all before Shuri would see those vulnerable eyes gazing back at her once more. Not long at all, before the wolf in her dreams and the man in her lab would emerge as one.

Her champion. Her protector. Her _Ingcuka._

* * *

  
  
T’Challa awaits her in her office above the main lab once the procedure is done, Captain Steve Rogers at his side.

“Impressive, right?” she exhales as she strides into the room, grinning with pride at her handiwork. “Easy, really. He was sleeping like a newborn before we even froze him.”

T’Challa nods from behind his fingers, still thinking hard, as usual. Strategizing. “Excellent work, Shuri. But then I knew that if anyone could pull it off, it would be my _brilliant_ little sister.”

He comes to stand at the head of her desk as she sits and activates the holograms of Barnes’ current vitals. “Thank the elders for the sedative,” she responds, showing them the equation she’d come up with for splicing the herb’s properties into something strong enough to knock out a nearly immortal man. 

“How did you do that, if you don’t mind an old guy asking a dumb question?” Rogers speaks up, squinting at the holograms without any real comprehension. 

“A special herb we keep here for...preserving our ancestral heritage,” she chooses her words carefully, not wishing to reveal any of their secrets that she doesn’t have to. “The bottom line, Captain, is that he won’t have pain anymore. If we have to freeze him again, it _will_ be humane.”

Rogers looks immensely relieved, and grateful. He smiles down at her. “Thank you, miss, uh...Princess Shuri. You have no idea how much this means. Both of you. I won’t forget your hospitality.”

“Don’t thank us yet,” T’Challa sighs, his soft, smooth voice weighed down by deep contemplation. “There is still the matter of erasing the triggers Zemo so easily activated in Romania.”

Rogers nods dutifully. “That won’t be easy. I know.”

“No, but I’m working on it, brother,” Shuri insists, turning to T’Challa to make sure he understands that he’s got _her_ mind on it and it will work out. “I think I’ve found a lead, at least. The herb has many underused properties, not just the ones I was able to manipulate to sedate him.”

“Oh?” Her brother’s brow raises, his interest piqued. 

She explains the theory she’s working with that she can use the herb with a combination of therapy sessions once she finds a way to decode the triggers. T’Challa is interested, but still somewhat unconvinced. “I’ll keep working on it. I’ll perfect it. You’ll see.”

“Seeing what you’ve been able to do in just a week, I for one am nothing but confident,” the good American super-soldier assures her.

They send Steve off to wash up and get a bit of rest until T’Challa will join him to rescue his imprisoned friends. Her brother lingers, however, and she can tell before he speaks that a lecture is coming. It instantly ignites her temper, but she says nothing until her big brother has his say.

He clasps his hands behind his back, gazing at her with misleading patience. “You’re worrying our mother, Shuri.”

She fights not to roll her eyes childishly. “That’s as much your fault as it is mine, brother. I have work to do. This isn’t some school arts and crafts project you’ve given me.”

He tilts his head but does not relent. “I asked for your help, _not_ for you to avoid Umama, _or_ piss off my general. Okoye thinks of you as her little sister, as well. She really cares.”

“I already heard it from her. I don’t need to hear it from you, too.” She shuts down the holograms and sits down in a huff, but she doesn’t try to dismiss him. As if she could.

He sighs, approaching her and bringing himself level to her, sitting down in the empty chair opposite her. “You know I am grateful for your help. And _I_ know that if any of this is going to work, I need you. However…”

Shuri rubs her temples, feeling a headache coming on, but stays quiet.

T’Challa leans forward, folding his hands across the desk, his expression now open, revealing his own exhaustion, grief, worry. She lets go of some of her annoyance. Together they gaze at each other, their feelings about their father’s sudden death hanging in the air around them. She finds, as she had in her Baba’s eyes, her brother’s heart. His truth. He loves her. He doesn’t want to lose her...to _anything_. Especially not herself.

“I do not wish for your help if it means you refusing to rest, to eat, or to see your grieving mother. Show her that her youngest child isn’t working herself to the point of exhaustion just to avoid her _real_ feelings. Show Umama she has no reason to worry; Okoye, either.” He reaches across and takes her small hand in his. “Please, Bibi. For your big brother’s sake, eh? So we can continue giving you the space and freedom you need to do your good work here.”

Shuri breathes, and is overcome with emotion. She swallows it down, nodding her agreement.

“ _Enkosi, usisi._ ” T’Challa kisses her hand and stands from the chair, not letting go until he’s turned to leave her with her thoughts. 

Shuri lingers there for some time longer, studying her work on the Winter Soldier, but eventually, she wishes to be in her mother’s company. She wishes to be held and loved up by the Queen Mother, and her emotions swarm within her. 

She leaves her lab and goes to seek out her family, suddenly _truly_ feeling her fatigue - and her overwhelming grief - after days of nonstop working.

  
  


* * *

  
  


Ramonda holds Shuri in her arms without a word, hugging her tightly as she exhales and the tears flow like a waterfall. 

She hasn’t cried this way since that first night; the night of Baba’s murder. She finds herself sobbing in no time, her thin frame shuddering in her mother’s arms, until she can’t shed any more tears. Ramonda rubs her shoulders and back soothingly, resting her cheek on the top of Shuri’s head, her own tears floating in her closed eyes without falling.

“Why didn’t you come home, Shuri?” she asks gently after a long while of somber silence. She strokes her daughter’s hair, her love and patience enveloping Shuri like a warm blanket. “You can tell me anything. You know that...don’t you?”

Shuri takes in a shuddering breath and glances up at her mother through wet lashes. “There’s really nothing to tell. I just...I didn’t want to feel.” She shrugs, immense fatigue creeping into her bones. “I just needed to work. But, Okoye and T’Challa are right. I can’t work forever. Without Baba, I feel, I feel…” a thick knot of grief clogs her throat and she melts into tears again.

Mere hours before, she’d been feeling so confident, so determined. Now she just feels like a child.

Ramonda smiles warmly at her, patting her backside so she sits up and wipes her eyes.

“You feel untethered,” the Queen Mother finishes for her, stroking her cheeks again, taking her face between her palms. “Your father was your anchor. He helped you ground yourself when your mind could not rest. Yes?”

Feeling silly for avoiding her mother’s wisdom and care like a petulant child, Shuri nods sheepishly. 

Ramonda smiles, taking a deep breath and turning to fully face her daughter. “Alright, then. That’s a start. So. Why don’t we try this? Tell _me_. Let your old Umama see if she can help.”

Shuri can’t help a sad smile, affection surging within her for her lovely mother, trying her best to connect with her daughter in the one way she never quite managed to. 

“Your father is gone, sweetie. I know how much it hurts,” she lets go of Shuri’s face, her own pain flickering across her graceful features. “But I am still here for you. _Right here._ Tell me. Please?”

Shuri takes her mother’s hands and takes a leap of faith. She explains her work on the Winter Soldier, the challenge she faces trying to free his mind. Ramonda listens attentively, frowning every now and then thoughtfully, as Shuri recounts her dream, the impending sense of doom and yet serenity she felt being chased and then reuniting with the creature from the vintage footage she’d been watching over and over. 

“There is something about dreams...something I can’t get my mind around. I just know it.” She sighs, picturing the vulnerable eyes that greeted her in her lab a short while ago. “You should have seen him, ‘mama. He looked so lost. So sad. I have to help him. Fix him. I just get this feeling I’ll never be able to let it rest if I can’t.”

“Do you think…” Ramonda pauses, finding her words carefully, “in reality, Bibi, it is your father that you won’t be able to let rest if you cannot fix this man, this _ingcuka_?”

Shuri blinks, not having considered that. It doesn’t sound completely off the mark, but she’s too tired to give it much contemplation. “I honestly don’t know.”

Ramonda smiles, nodding as if she’s come to a decision. “Then let’s find out.”

Shuri frowns in exhausted confusion as her mother rises from the bed, gathers the layers of her robe and nightgown, and walks over to a large cabinet holding an assortment of teas.

The young genius cranes her neck to see over Ramonda’s shoulder as she finds a small key, and then the drawer it belongs to beneath all the usual boxes of teas they drink together.

She pulls the drawer out of its slot and turns back, her eyes alight with mischief and anticipation. Shuri sits up straight, folding her legs under her, as her mother places the box on the bed between them, unlocks it, and carefully slides it open. The fragrance of the tea inside is so strong, both women have to close their eyes and brace themselves as it washes over them.

“Bast, mother, what kind of tea is this?” The princess hisses in awe, reaching down to take the small bundle of crushed, dried leaves wrapped in a translucent cloth, tied with a purple ribbon.

Ramonda smirks. “You are not the only one who bothers the elders for shortcuts to frustrating problems, Bibi,” she confirms mysteriously as her daughter tentatively sniffs at the potent stuff. She gestures to the bag with her chin, her voice becoming reverent, hushed. “Your father used to have trouble sleeping, too. His mind was like yours,” she reaches over to stroke her child’s cheek and moves her braids behind her shoulder. “Perhaps not a super genius like his little _ilanga_ , but...still, your father was a brilliant man.”

Shuri studies the leaves inside the bag, bringing it up to her nose to inhale deeply. It is very strong, but the scent doesn’t overwhelm her anymore. It lulls her. She feels her exhaustion weighing her down like stones in her pockets in a river trying to sweep her away, just smelling it this close. It almost reminds her of what she’d done to the Heart-Shaped Herb to knock Bucky Barnes out cold.

She tilts her head at her mother. “Is this…?”

Ramonda clicks her tongue, nodding. “I had it made after a week of your father pacing, right here in this room, past this bed, over and over, every night.” She moves her arm back and forth along the large expanse of the bed they sit in, her eyes unfocused as if she’s seeing T’Chaka there now, pacing in the middle of the night. “It was shortly after you were born, in fact.”

“And did it work?” Shuri asks, now studying the tea again, or what she can see of it through the cloth. “Did he sleep?”

“He not only slept, _he had visions._ He would rest, but he would _work_ as well.” Ramonda smiles fondly. “The things he would tell me he had seen when he woke again! Your father found answers to some of his greatest conflicts as king, drinking this tea, calming his mind. This tea helped guide him to a kind of clarity that no waking meditation ever could.”

Shuri contemplates what her mother is telling her. She wants to know why Baba never told her about this, but then, she supposes it could hardly have been the right thing for a little girl. She isn’t a little girl anymore, and she doesn’t have her father to ground her. Perhaps she should sample some of her own medicine. Perhaps she can find a way to understand how she could treat the Winter Soldier if she can put herself in his shoes. See what he might see, being trapped deep inside the mind with no control over when one might be granted an escape. 

Visions. Clarity. Sure, why not?

“Alright, ‘mama. I’ll try it.”

Ramonda sighs with relief and kisses her daughter on the forehead. They embrace long and tightly, Shuri feeling very glad she finally opened up to her mother, kicking herself for avoiding it for so long. Ramonda is simply happy to be able to connect with her daughter again during such a big transition in their world. She has lost her husband, her beloved, and her son is off-putting his life in danger to protect his kingdom. She does not wish to lose her daughter to her own mind.

Before Shuri leaves her for the night, the Queen Mother holds up a warning finger. “Be careful, _Ilanga_ . _One_ cup, _don’t_ steep it too long, and _don’t_ try to fight the effects. You’ll send yourself into a panic, and it will be a nightmare instead of deep meditation, yes?”

“Understood.”

Shuri clutches the tea to her chest, kisses her mother goodnight, and retreats to her rooms to see what visions await.

* * *

  
  


She hasn’t even finished that one cup before she’s falling into the stars.

The stars wash away to black sand.

The sand rises, forming shapes and structures around her.

Wakanda, only...not. Ancient. As if the great _isipho_ has only just struck the Earth.

And then a lone figure rises from the sand below her, walking steadily toward her.

She hopes with all her heart that it’s her Baba, but it’s not. She can just feel it, the closer the figure gets to her. The eyes gleam white through the panther mask she can now see affixed to the figure’s face. There’s no speaking aloud, but she can hear his voice as clear as if he has always been the voice she heard inside her mind.

**_You know who I am, child?_ **

_Bashenga?_

The figure nods. 

**_And now, why are you here? Why have you come to me?_ **

_I...don’t know. To find my purpose, perhaps?_

The elder is still and silent for a long while, and Shuri still feels she is floating in the stars.

Bashenga gestures with his spear and the sand rises again to form another. This one a wolf.

He waves his spear again, and yet another figure rises from the black sand beneath her. This one is her, she is sure of it, only she is dressed in battle armor. The two figures - the wolf and the warrior - begin to run, and as they do, more figures rise up to meet and challenge them. She watches them fight. Waves of foes come at them from different angles. Always, the wolf protects her while she fights, always keeping her from being overwhelmed by enemies. The Black Panther appears alongside her, and an eagle, and a falcon, and lightning strikes the enemies on the battlefield, knocking them back far and wide as the warrior and her animal friends back each other up.

_What is this?_

**_Your purpose. Your destiny. Do not question, child. See._ **

She watches the warrior and her wolf and his animal companions fight on, for what seems like ages, waves and waves of enemies of all sorts. Sometimes they are joined by others that she might recognize if she wasn’t so fixated on the warrior princess...turned Queen...turned Black Pantheress in her own right...and her wolf. The creature stays by her side through it all, until the sand begins to slow, and all figures around them begin to dematerialize, leaving just the two of them.

Shuri watches the wolf slow its pace until it has to lie down in the black sand. The figure of herself kneels next to it as it lays its large head on its paws and goes still. The falcon and the eagle return, swarming around it, as the Black Pantheress mourns.

Then the black sand consumes them all, and she is left to turn back to the ancestor Bashenga’s gleaming white eyes. 

**_Keep to your path._ **

_Are you sure? Is this right?_

**_There is nothing certain in this world, child. Keep to your path. Bast will guide you._ **

Bashenga crosses his arms in the sign of Wakandan pride, and collapses into the black sand.

Shuri floats in the stars for a while, contemplating, dreaming, resting.

The eyes of the wolf, and the eyes of the frozen man hidden deep within her lab...they are the same.

There is a connection between her dreams and her waking mind, just as there will be in his.

She can help him. But she must make him one of them, in order to do so.

She must trust her instincts, her mind, but also her spirit. If Bast and Bashenga and her Umama in all their wisdom have guided her here to this vision, then she will trust them, too.


	4. A Genius At Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by her vision, Shuri spends every night she can working on freeing Bucky.

After her vision, Shuri sleeps soundly through the night.

She wakes just before dawn, remembering every detail vividly. Floating in the stars, her ancestor's grave proclamation, and the black sand showing her the warrior princess and the wolf persevering in battle together for a lifetime.

She gets out of bed, brushes her teeth and washes her face quickly before tossing on clothes and shoes, pulling her braids up high, and hurrying to her lab.

Her assigned Dora is still Naija. She escorts Shuri, stifling a yawn apologetically, to the temporary holding chamber where she had Bucky moved until she can find a more suitable location.

Shuri waves her kimoyo beads across the entry panel, deactivating the invisible shield keeping out intruders. The overhead lights glimmer to life as she enters, leaving Naija to stand guard outside.

It's cold inside, giving Shuri goosebumps, but she ignores the sensation. In the middle of the room, surrounded by their monitoring equipment, the former Winter Soldier sleeps in his cryo-chamber.

Shuri walks slowly up to the chamber, peering up at the man inside, frozen still, eyes closed. The steady beat of his heart echoes out to her from one of the monitors keeping track of his vital signs.

She reaches out to place her hand on the chilled glass of the cryo chamber, just beneath his heart.

He looks so young and at peace like this. The tips of his hair are covered in frost, as are his eyebrows and lashes. She remembers the eyes behind those closed, frozen lids. Winter blue and vulnerable, lost, trapped.

 _This is no way to live at all_ , she thinks sadly, beginning to understand her strong sense of empathy for him after her vision. They are connected, somehow. She doesn't know yet if this is fate, or purely cause and effect, but it's real.

"I dreamt about you," she whispers into the quiet. "Well, a vision, really. Bast, was it intense. But…" she smiles softly up at him, tilting her head, "I think it means I _am_ the only one who can help you. I hate to admit it, but I think we were meant to meet, Ingcuka."

"Ingcuka…?" Naija, too curious to resist, has inched her way into the room and is hovering by the door. She switches her gaze from the princess to the frozen colonizer in the chamber. She doesn't pretend to understand half the things her mistress does here, but it's all fascinating and can be very thrilling at times. "Why that name?"

Shuri takes a moment to contemplate her answer. It seems like the natural thing, given all the signs she's witnessed over the last few days. She doesn't go into the old footage of the Commandos, her dream or her vision. She shrugs and offers a simple, practical answer. "Wolves are very loyal, as well as fierce protectors, especially of their own. He needs to belong to something. A family. And, perhaps, a different mantle will help him anchor himself; _find_ himself.

"Anyway, I think it suits him better than _The_ _Winter Soldier._ " Shuri makes a face and uses a dumbed-down Russian accent when she says his old moniker, making Naija chuckle quietly. "Don't you?"

"Much better, _Nkosazana._ " Naija agrees, walking cautiously forward to watch the white man sleep alongside her princess. "What will you do with him?"

"I'm going to fix him," Shuri taps her temple with her fingers. "Mentally. He needs a lot of therapy; he's been tortured and brainwashed."

"Oh, my goodness…!" Naija gasps, somewhat scandalized, her curiosity completely taking over the usual poise of a dutiful Dora Milaje. Shuri chuckles. It's nice to have someone in the lab - let alone one of the Dora - without the history or technical knowledge that she can impress easily. Sometimes she needs that. Naija is on the younger side and hasn't been with the royal guard long, very capable but also very congenial, like Shuri. They get along well outside the formal platitudes of their positions. Shuri wonders if Okoye chose Naija on purpose to give her princess a friendly face to deal with instead of a stern one. Okoye is a mystery to Shuri sometimes. But she supposes, in her own way, she is showing Shuri affection, even understanding.

Shuri stares some minutes more at Bucky, remembering their battles in her vision, letting her eyes slip down to the place where his missing cybernetic arm should be.

"But first…" she gets serious, nodding to the empty space around his missing appendage, "I think fixing him physically will be easier. I have an idea. Will you help me?"

Naija looks like an antelope in headlights for a moment. She glances at the doorway, as if she's afraid the general will be there to scold them both. "With what, my Princess? I am no scientist."

Shuri clicks her tongue dismissively as she gets to work activating her sand table and corresponding equipment around it.

"All I need is an extra pair of hands when the time comes. And some company. My aides have other things to worry about this morning. Right now it's just you and me...and Ingcuka, here. He's not judging, trust me."

This makes Naija laugh and relax. She sets her spear aside carefully and readies herself to watch eagerly, or help however she is asked.

Shuri woke this dawn with the design forming in her head, along with a million other things.

She had studied the cybernetic arm HYDRA forced on him way back when. _Old-fashioned_. A _ntiquated, really,_ she thinks to herself as she sketches out what she wants using the sand table before she sends it along for prosthesis automation. Naija watches closely, practically (silently) _ooh-ing_ and _aah-ing_ as her young princess's hands dash about, forming the plates that make up the shoulder, bicep and forearm, then the fingers, then shaping the "muscles" of a new vibranium arm.

Shuri lets her mind run, almost operating on autopilot, she is designing so fast. She uses holotech to introduce the more impressive technical elements of the arm to the sand sculpture. Naija takes turns handing Shuri different design tools while watching her like a schoolgirl during story time as she sculpts. She makes sure it's perfectly balanced so that he doesn't have to walk differently or shift his weight a certain way to carry it. She adds temperature control that will match his natural body heat at any given time, plus flexibility beyond the clunky, noisy cybernetics HYDRA used, and attachments that won't scar his flesh the way that old one did.

And the final touch...gold vibranium under-trim the length of the arm, with a tribal insignia completing the joint on the inside of the wrist, ' _White Wolf'_. By the time she's done, she feels almost spent as she sends it off to the weapons manufacturers deep within the mound. It won't take long for them to finish the new vibranium arm.

Shuri knows it's going to be a work of art. All of her designs are.

Naija watches the sculpture melt back into the sand table, the data being transferred to the depths below, and holds herself back from applauding. Instead she beams, straightening up to take her spear back and stand at attention. " _Enkosi,_ _Nkosazana._ That was...well, it was amazing, watching you work. I'm grateful."

"Thank _you_ for me company," Shuri yawns unexpectedly. Rising with the dawn after so many long days and sleepless nights may not have been a great idea, no matter how peaceful her vision. Maybe she'll take a little power nap before breakfast and a long shift in the lab today. "Mmm, I woke too soon, I think. Will you please make sure I'm not disturbed for like, an hour? I just need to rest my eyes for a little while longer."

Naija nods gently, watching as Shuri climbs onto an examination table next to Bucky's cryostasis chamber. She covers her princess in a soft blanket for warmth as she closes her eyes and drifts off for a nap. Marveling at the young woman's brilliance. A true role model for every young girl in Wakanda; the _world_.

_One day you will be one of our kingdom's greatest leaders, your highness. I just know it._

She glances up at the cryostasis chamber. "You are a _very_ blessed man to have our Princess Shuri looking after you. May Bast ensure you never forget it."

With a lingering look at the frozen colonizer benefitting from her kingdom's sanctuary and the genius napping next to him, Naija exits the room and lets the lights dim.

The frozen soldier stands a silent centurion in his chamber, guarding the sleeping princess.

* * *

For the next three weeks, Shuri goes to work deciphering the triggers and designing a therapy program for Bucky. It's very theoretical, but she trusts herself. She doesn't drink the tea her mother gave her again, but she does bring it to her lab for synthesization with her work in progress therapy treatment. She hopes she'll be able to wake him and begin sooner rather than later.

She has her aides move Bucky to a special, hidden lab even deeper inside the Great Mound.

She goes the extra mile to make his resting place ( _their_ resting place, most nights) the exact opposite of a tomb. She oversees its renovation, opening up a sky light in the space as one of the first things she checks off her list.

She has her aides monitoring him and reporting to her every day. Not much changes. He is perfectly healthy, his brain activity only spikes a little during the hours when they do tests, but otherwise, he is fine.

She visits him almost every night. She tells herself that it's some strange desire for him not to feel alone, but he wouldn't know the difference. In actuality, she finds it helps _her_ to be around him while digging into his past, reading through the infamous red notebook. There are dark things scrawled inside in Russian, nefarious rules of engagement, notes on any time he behaved erratically or began to remember things, and how much electroshock they put him through to "correct" the issue. Every time they woke him, as a matter of fact, they tortured him to "prime" him for a mission. Awful.

And the words. Words that, on their face, seem totally innocuous. But the deeper Shuri digs and the more she thinks, the more she realizes that they were not chosen at random. They connect his past to his enslavement in a permanent deathlock that can't be unbroken once set in place.

 _Longing_...the first word, always, locking away any longing he might feel to know or return to his true self. His mind "wiped" of memory, desire, id.

 _Rusted_...the second, to bury him beneath the lie that he is not a man unto himself. He is a machine, to be activated and shut down over and over again until he is of no use to HYDRA.

 _Seventeen_...the year he was born. Used against him to trigger his rebirth as the Fist of HYDRA. Locking away his true identity so that he will never connect that number to Bucky Barnes, only The Winter Soldier.

She goes down the list, using everything she's learned about his true life and the hell he endured as a brainwashed assassin, plus the methods employed by HYDRA in all their secret experimenting and brainwashing, as clues. Pieces of a large, complex, _dark_ puzzle.

She comes up with a therapy strategy with three key elements: a version of the tea strong enough to send him into a vision, the blessed waters of the healing pools in the sacred lake behind the Great Mound (forbidden to anyone but the elders, but she will find a way around that), and an anchor. A lifeline. Something to help him to ground himself, remember himself. She hasn't quite figured out what that will be yet. It needs to be something personal to him, something he'll believe, trust, reach out for when he feels overwhelmed by traumatic memories.

One night as she's wrapping up her work to retire for the evening, Shuri looks up at him, suddenly very tempted to wake him. Ask him what he'd like for his anchor.

She realizes that she also wants him to open his eyes and give her that same slow, sad smile she saw a glimpse of right before they froze him. Tell her he trusts her.

"Almost time for you to wake," she promises. "Just a little longer, and you'll be free."

He sleeps on, the echo of his heartbeat his only answer.


	5. "Where's the fight?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU - The fight to win Wakanda back from N'Jadaka, Shuri is forced to save the White Wolf from being activated and used against them.

During her three weeks of uninterrupted work, T'Challa is gone, negotiating the extradition of Zemo, helping Rogers and his fugitive friends find refuge, and flying off again with Okoye to track down his ex Nakia, who is deep undercover.

While the Queen Mother uses this time to oversee preparations for his coronation on his return, Shuri is seized by a fit of creativity and inspiration.

When she isn't with Bucky, she plunges into designing two new suits for her brother and new prototypes for gauntlets, EMP upgrades, and much more. Her mind scarcely pauses to rest, but she assures her mother she's sleeping (she's mostly having the same dream of being chased and rescued by the white wolf - sometimes through the Great Mound, sometimes in the tunnels running through Warrior Falls, sometimes in the forest out by the border) and she'll be fine (she doesn't pause to make sure as often as she should).

Whenever she's doing anything else (including failing to sleep), she's thinking of her work. Longing to return to it.

She works practically around the clock, taking advantage of Okoye's absence with her brother, and her mother's unrelenting attention to getting every detail for the coronation ceremony perfect.

Free of their worry and judgment, she's a beast in the lab.

Naija is much more reasonable and only a couple of years older than Shuri, so it's easier for her to get away during this time, thank Bast. Though, she does make sure to go home at reasonable hours, eats where people can see her, and keeps up a bright, brave face. They don't understand. Her work is what makes her happy; gives her purpose. Only Baba could ever really understand.

She manages to gift T'Challa his new suit, but before she can finish her research on Bucky's triggers, all hell breaks loose.

Things seemed to be turning around. A bright sunrise fell on Wakanda when T'Challa was made their new king. Grief turned to pride and Shuri felt invigorated by her brother's success.

He, in turn, was so impressed with her work that he allowed her to be his backup on his mission to Busan to capture Klaw. Shuri was so happy that she bragged about it to Ingucka's frozen, unhearing form later that day. She decided not to show T'Challa his new arm just yet, saving it as a surprise bonus for a free and restored Bucky.

But then her brother brings home some American, Agent Ross, not Klaw, from Busan.

With renewed confidence from her progress with Bucky, Shuri heals him.

Just in time for catastrophe.

Erik Killmonger - _N'Jadaka -_ comes to their borders. W'Kabi brings him to the council.

T'Challa accepts his challenge to the throne. The entire day is rife with tension and turmoil. Shuri feels as if someone pulled the Earth from beneath her feet. When N'Jadaka ruthlessly kills both their beloved Zuri and T'Challa in ritual combat, their entire world is upended overnight, sending Shuri's brilliant mind into a tailspin.

The night he takes the throne, before she can even process what she has just witnessed, she finds herself being rushed through a secret tunnel along the Falls, headed for Jabari territory beyond.

 _My brother is dead! No, Bast, no, not T'Challa, too!_ Her mind screams at her, her thoughts a thick bogg too heavy to wade through. She runs without seeing, being dragged along on stiff, stumbling legs.

Until a pair of pale, vulnerable blue eyes flash inside her mind, and her heart seizes. She stops dead in her tracks, wrenching her wrist from Nakia's grasp breathlessly.

"Wait!"

Nakia and Romonda whirl around to face her in the dark, panting with grief and adrenaline.

"What is it, child?" Ramonda rushes to her side, grasping Shuri's face in her hands.

"We must keep moving, Princess," Nakia hisses urgently.

Shuri shakes her head, her heart swelling painfully, tears flowing freely from her puffy eyes. She forces herself to think and speak clearly through the panic and sorrow filling her to the brim.

N'Jadaka would kill Bucky if he found him. Or worse, find a way to trigger him and use him against them. Against _everyone_ , especially the colonizers he despises.

The red book is locked away, but if he has control of the kingdom now, he will find it.

The thought of Bucky being forced to slaughter any Wakandan people, or being used in whatever plan her lost cousin had to destroy his enemies, makes her stomach turn.

"What if N'Jadaka finds _him?_ Kills him...or triggers him?" She breathes, locking gazes with her mother.

Nakia blinks in confusion, but recognition flashes in Romonda's wet eyes. She knows enough about the man her daughter's been spending most of her nights tending to know that they cannot let that happen. Still, there is nothing for it now, and all three know it. There is no time to waste.

"He's hidden. You saw to that yourself." Umama utters, holding back tears. "I trust you, Bibi."

"Killmonger won't find him. Come, Shuri _._ Hurry!" Nakia grabs her again and drags her forward until she's running on her own.

She can only pray to Bast to keep Bucky Barnes hidden, sleeping, and safe until they can find a way to bring N'Jadaka down and save Wakanda.

* * *

"Good luck, Agent Ross, we're counting on you!" Nakia calls as they hurry out of the main lab, slipping through a secret passage that should take them back out to the landing zone near the atrium.

They've split from T'Challa, who has gone to head off N'Jadaka while they come in from behind. If Ross the ex Air Force pilot can manage to do his part without screwing up, the Talons that are already in the air will be taken care of quickly.

Nakia and Shuri hastily suit up in a narrow, jagged hidden corridor. Shuri can't stop a nagging feeling in her gut. Something pulling her deeper inside the Mound. Something she _must_ do.

"Nakia..." she whispers as she charges her gauntlets, catching her old friend's eye meaningfully.

One look and Nakia correctly guesses what's going through her mind. She fastens the gold vibranium shoulder of the Dora armor and nods firmly to confirm her reluctant support.

T'Challa had warned against trying to go to Bucky, at the risk of inadvertently leading N'Jadaka to him or being captured, injured, or killed herself. But Shuri feels strongly otherwise.

Glancing toward the thin sliver of light in the direction of the landing zone and atrium, Nakia sighs hard, activating her ring blades. She sets her jaw and grounds herself on her feet to make a run for it. "Go. But _be quick_ , Shuri."

Grateful for the small window, Shuri nods determinedly. "I will. Meet outside in no time."

"Good luck."

"You, too."

The women bump weapons and dash off in seperate directions - Nakia to help Okoye and the other Dora, Shuri to find Ingcuka and make sure he hasn't been activated or killed.

As she makes her way, she has to instruct Ross on flying through the sand table link and shooting down any Talons before they reach the border.

Her hopes quickly turn to panic, however, when she runs into signs of Killmonger's henchmen moving through the area. Shuri stops before she's spotted, hanging back in the shadows. There are several of them, moving in and out of Bucky's holding lab. _Damn it!_

Before she moves any further, she listens. Bucky's lab is just around the corner, within range of her remote surveillance device.

"How much longer, huh?" One of the henchmen grumbles.

"Perhaps a few minutes? He's at thirty-five celsius and rising. Neural activity stabilizing." One of her aides, sounding frightened, answers. She must have been coerced into bringing them down here, showing them Shuri's research, _the book!_

"Do better. King N'Jadaka wants him in the field, now."

"But...we don't yet know how to control him. If you trigger him...he might not sto-"

"Not for you to decide, little girl. King's orders."

"Forget this waiting. Trigger him. Does he need to be awake?" Says someone else.

 _No!_ They're going to wake and activate the Winter Soldier to use against them if she doesn't stop them. Her gut feeling was right, and is getting worse, more intense. She has to do something before they start reading the trigger words. She may be outnumbered, but she has the element of surprise right now.

Gathering all of her bravery, Shuri primes her gauntlets, takes a deep breath, and charges into the lab. She takes two down with sonic blasts to the chest and face before she's caught from behind by an unseen attacker, and before she can even think - she calls for Ingucka.

* * *

Bucky is suddenly aware that he can feel his body.

He is breathing.

He is alive.

He hears his own heart beat.

He hears more loud, disturbing noises.

Grunts. Screams. Crashing. Shooting? A high, musical voice...calling his name.

"Ingcuka! _Bucky!_ Wake up, ahh!"

_Sunshine._

_**Shuri.** _

She's in trouble.

He opens his eyes.

He's lying on his back on a lab table in the middle of a room full of chaos. He's hooked up to machines. The bright overhead lights sting his eyes, but he has no time to process, because someone grabs him by the hair and forces him to stand. His body feels heavy, almost as if made of iron, and he is dimly aware that he is missing an arm. His mind begins to find its bearings as his eyes dart all around, his wet hair partially obscuring his view.

_Where is she?_

The person holding him up by the hair is screaming something in a language he only dimly recognizes. Bucky remembers what to do instinctually, as if fed to him by some unseen entity. Even though his limbs feel like led, he swiftly gains the upper hand on his assailant, flipping him over like a spinning top and slamming him into the ground hard enough to knock him unconscious.

The musical voice cries out again, and he whirls in time to dodge a blow from another unknown enemy. His instincts take over again, pushing through aching muscles that haven't moved in who knew how long. He dodges a few blows, then catches the enemy by the throat, pushing him back with uncompromising strength into the lab wall, hearing his skull fracture under the pressure. The henchman's eyes roll into the back of his head and he drops like a sack of flour.

Bucky feels it on the air first, then turns in time to catch a deadly-looking vibranium spear before it goes through his face. The spear lands in the wall, but before this third attacker can pull it out again, Bucky has it in his one hand, stabbing down swiftly into the first foot he can reach. He pulls it out, uses the side to knock the guy in the chin, causing him to fly backward into a bank of strange, modern-looking equipment.

Sparks fly, the lights dim and flicker out, leaving nothing but the faint sunlight filtering in through the skylight above.

Buky stumbles, his vision going blurry, his body feeling heavier than gravity, and sinks down to his knees. "Bucky! Bucky...? Are you alright?" the musical voice calls again, and then she's there.

Kneeling before him, touching him, warming him, breathing his name over and over as she lifts his face to hers.

"Sunshine…" he breathes, reaching out to touch her face; make sure she's actually real. Smooth like satin. Warm, alive. Yes, she is real. The last face he saw before he was pulled back into the void. The sweet voice that soothed him in his darkest hour. She's real and she's here. And apparently, she's in danger. Bucky tries to focus, clear his head. "Princess? What's happening?"

"There's no time to explain!" She implores him, tugging on his hand to get him to stand up. "I'm so sorry to do this, but our kingdom is under attack. We have to hurry. We have to stop N'Jadaka!"

He stands, his eyes following her around the room as she hastily grabs things from trays, assembling some sort of shot in a large silver syringe. She's dressed in what looks like warrior garb, her long braids wrapped up and tied with a purple band. She is sweating, in a panic, distressed. Bucky assesses his surroundings as she works - his open cryostasis chamber and the lab table he woke up on, the skylight, the partially destroyed equipment.

The red book. Laying haphazardly where someone dropped it on the floor. He stares at it.

Shuri snatches it up, depositing it into a hidden safe in the wall, and approaches him with the syringe.

"Don't worry...no one triggered you. I got here in time. You're still _you_."

"I know. I can feel it. I can _remember_."

He braces himself and she sticks him in the arm. The clear liquid goes in without much sensation.

When she's done, however, he can feel himself more awake, alert; his limbs not feeling so heavy anymore. So many years of HYDRA torturing and then triggering him to get him past the effects of cryostasis, and this young princess has developed something painless and instantaneous to stick him with. _He remembers._ He remembers that it's a miracle he's here. With her.

"Where's the fight?" he asks obediently, following her every move as she hastily opens another lock box in the wall with her kimoyo beads.

"Outside, through the tunnels. Put this on!" She gestures to a set of display cases set into the jagged black wall. Inside the smallest is a brand new, black and gold plated vibranium arm set into black casing. Another is about his size and height. It opens up to reveal a combat jacket, pants, and boots.

He walks over to the wall and takes the arm out of its casing, examining it for a few seconds to understand how it's attached. Shuri slips a soft, cool vibranium net onto the flesh that used to be his shoulder. It hums to life and he can actually _feel_ that the arm is drawn to it. He eases the thing on and it hums in place, fitting there and settling into his flesh as if it belongs. As if it was always part of him, even before he even saw it. He curls and unfurls his new fingers, bending his new forearm upward. It's flexible, powerful, and perfect.

He opens the case, grabs the clothes, and slips the pants on, followed by the jacket and boots.

Once done. Bucky turns to Shuri. She is gazing at him with a mixture of sadness, anger, and fierce determination. Her eyes say _this is the last thing I wanted for you when you woke again_ , but he can also see that she is overwhelmed with emotion and urgency. Something is happening up there. He can hear it, echoing down to them. A battle. She needs him. And they need to hurry.

"Let's go, Princess." He utters.

She takes off running. He follows, determined not to let any harm come her way, no matter what.


	6. First Night of the rest of His Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the fight, a weary and traumatized Shuri tries desperately not to let her emotions get the better of her, while Bucky tries silently to adjust to his new reality. They discover the one and only thing that can make either of them feel even a little bit at peace is each other. (Comfort/Friendship).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing is therapy for me, whichever form it takes. Fanfiction, poetry, short stories, even the writing I do for work, in its own way, helps me cope. Chadwick Boseman's passing has been really hard for all of the fandom, myself included. I have to warn you, this chapter includes a lot of T'Challa. I just didn't see how I could avoid it, given the story I'm trying to tell, and truthfully...I didn't want to.
> 
> I hope that isn't triggering to anyone (though it's understandable if it is). I hope this offers some small little form of escape if you're feeling emotionally overwhelmed. Take care and enjoy.
> 
> -MM

There is something stuck in Shuri's throat, something lodged between her ribs, pushing to get out.

She is afraid to let it, because she isn't sure what will happen if she does. She just continues doing her best to swallow it down as she watches Mindi - the aid who'd been coerced into rousing Bucky - scan her aching wrist with shaking hands.

The scan takes, but Shuri doesn't look up to see the hologram it produces. She can only stare at her wrist unseeingly, letting the memories from the last few hours play in her mind over and over.

It was like something out of one of her dreams. Bucky had rushed with her through the tunnels, and out to the atrium, they came. And N'Jadaka was there, murderous, in a furious rage, wearing one of the suits she'd designed for T'Challa, making him even more deadly than he was the last she saw of him.

Nakia was gone, injured badly by his vibranium claws and thrown some twenty feet away.

 _Naija was dead!_ Her kind face frozen in pain, laying on her back in a pool of blood, her throat slit.

Shuri swallows the ever-intensifying pressure back down again, refusing to dwell on the ghastly sight. She'd stopped in her tracks, distracted by it - so horrified was she that such a kind soul had been extinguished in such a brutal manner. N'Jadaka was able to take advantage and charge her. She managed to stun him with her gauntlets but he was too fast, and too _powerful_.

Had it not been for Bucky leaping in to stop his claws from slicing her face open and holding his own, driving her murderous cousin back, Mindi would be scanning a severely disfigured princess instead of a shocked one.

They had Bucky separated from her somewhere. No doubt interrogating him to see if there was any trace of the Winter Soldier the traitors sent by Killmonger had managed to trigger.

Or worse - planning to take him away from here, extradition to that hellish prison under the ocean.

Agent Ross was vitally helpful today, but he _is_ still a spy and beaurocrat. She wouldn't put it past him to snatch Bucky from their good care to serve America's misguided version of justice.

There is no justice, Shuri is convinced after what they've been through. The memory of T'Challa carrying Killmonger's lifeless body back to her lab surfaces and she has to fight off a surge of emotion great enough to push that _thing_ she's resisting right out of her. Her poor brother, merely hours after his own near-death experience, quietly imploring her to try to save their cousin.

But she couldn't. He was already gone. No amount of vibranium could bring him back, and he had burned their herb. All of it. All they had left was the tea Umama had given Shuri, and that wasn't strong enough to resurrect the dead - not by a long shot.

"Forgive me, my princess…" Mindi's emotional voice interrupts Shuri's dark thoughts.

She looks up to see that the traumatized woman is fighting back a sob, clutching the scanner to her chest imploringly.

"I-I thought they were here to help us escape, but they _hurt us._ Some of our own! Then they forced me…" she shook her head in confusion, the tears slipping down her cheeks, "they _forced_ me to wake the soldier, Princess Shuri, on my life, I swear! I tried to stop them but there were so many of them. So many turned against King T'Challa...so easily..."

"I know. Shh." Shuri sighs and reaches out with her unhurt hand to bring Mindi into a tight hug. "No more apologies. You must have been so confused and so scared."

Mindi can only nod against her princess's thin shoulder, her tears flowing freely, now. That _thing_ trapped in Shuri's chest and throat claws to get out, but she refuses to let it.

Once she's calmed down and gathers her poise again, Mindi steps back, thanks Shuri for the comfort, and reopens the hologram of her scan.

Shuri's wrist is sprained and she has minor burns along her arm from where N'Jadaka crushed one of her gauntlets right into her flesh. Aside from some aches and pains and bruising, she'll be fine.

Mindi heals Shuri's wrist, applies a soothing balm for her burns, and gives her a vibranium-laced brace to keep pressure and strain off of it for the next few days, just to be sure. "Go and rest, Mindi. Please. No one will bother you tonight, I promise. You've been through enough...we all have."

She sends a grateful Mindi off and wastes no time seeking out her brother, Ross, and Bucky.

She will not allow Ross, or _anyone_ , to force Bucky out of Wakanda. Not after everything he'd done to help them take their kingdom back. Not after how much she's come to care for his wellbeing.

* * *

Bucky sits on the lab table back in the hidden space where Princess Shuri keeps his chamber.

Except the princess isn't here.

An alive, but somewhat distraught and weary King T'Challa is here, wrapped in a blanket, a thoughtful frown and pursed lips hidden behind his bent fingers, watching Bucky.

An agitated and bewildered, but somewhat humbled Everett Ross is here, pacing through the wreckage from Bucky's fight with the guys trying to trigger him earlier. He's also watching Bucky, turning his head every few moments to stare at him, his hands on his hips.

Then there's the Dora Milaje general. Okoye, he remembers from very briefly meeting her when he first arrived. Also watching him, her expression guarded but her eyes swimming with emotion.

Three other Dora, present but clearly distracted. The man he had helped them fight until T'Challa tackled him into the atrium had killed one of them, brutally. Bucky knows grief when he sees it. They're still on duty, but they're all in heavy mourning.

All of these faces looking back at him except the one kind, angelic face he wants to see.

Bucky wants to ask if Princess Shuri is ok. If she's injured badly. If he could be allowed to see her again, just to make sure. He owes her that, but he thinks he'd want to make sure even if she hadn't been the only thing on his mind since he was forced out of cryosleep hours ago.

But, given the circumstances (the details of which he is still kind of fuzzy on), he figures it's in his best interest not to say anything at all. The sight of Agent Ross - the man who had every intention of keeping Bucky locked in that little glass box of a cell for the rest of his natural life - is enough to put Bucky on high, silent alert. He remains there, eyes locked straight ahead at the door one of the Dora is guarding, sitting as calm and still as he can. Inside, however, he's screaming.

 _Please, don't send me back there with him,_ he thinks over and over.

 _Where is she,_ he thinks when he's not thinking that.

If Steve was here, that would be one thing. But King T'Challa owes Bucky nothing. He can easily call today the end of Bucky's use to them, or send him out of gratitude for whatever assistance Ross gave them during the fight. He could snap Ross's neck like a toothpick and make a run for it, but that would be his doom. Even with the beauty of a new vibranium arm the princess bestowed upon him, Buckley feels like nothing more than a bargaining chip. He's frustrated, and truthfully, kinda scared out of his mind. But he sits and endures it.

If he could just see _her_ \- see that she's okay - maybe he could calm down. Maybe they'd listen to her. Maybe she'd want him to stay, finish what she started. He says nothing as T'Challa sighs and cuts his eyes toward Ross. "Agent Ross."

The American CIA agent stops pacing and turns to face the king, tilted forward on his axis as if he's about to take off running. Bucky focuses, and realizes that Ross has been waiting to follow T'Challa's lead. Interesting.

"I don't believe any further questioning will be necessary," T'Challa informs the room at large, shrugging off the blanket. He has to hold his ribs for the injuries he sustained from a suit just as powerful as his, but he commands the room all the same. He nods with conviction at the asylum seeker sitting at attention, awaiting his fate. "As you can see, Sergeant Barnes was not triggered, not in the slightest. In fact, I count it a blessing from Bast that he was able to help us. He saved my sister's life, fought to stop a mutiny, and helped neutralize a threat to the world that you and I both know could have been catastrophic."

Ross swallows, leaning back, relaxing his pensive stance. He nods in agreement, glancing Bucky's way. "Just one more question, then, your Highness. This one for you." T'Challa turns to look Ross fully in the eyes. "What's your plan for him?"

T'Challa lowers his gaze for a beat, thinking. The man is _always_ thinking, but his eyes soon find their way to Bucky's again. The former Winter Soldier swallows hard and feels heat sprout at his temples, but he doesn't break eye contact. He tries to silently communicate his willingness to prove that he's no threat, if only they would let him stay.

"Nothing less than _full_ recovery," T'Challa replies, with instantly affecting finality. He's naming his conditions, laying them out for Bucky just as well as for Ross. "No more HYDRA triggers. No more Winter Soldier. Not a prisoner, or a weapon, but as long as he remains within our borders, he must be willing and _dedicated_ to serve as an adopted son and guardian of Wakanda."

Bucky is overwhelmed and inspired. Eager. He gives T'Challa a covert signal of acceptance, lifting his chin, his jaw clenching visibly. _I will serve Wakanda any way you want me to, just let me stay._

Ross watches the silent exchange, seemingly satisfied. That doesn't stop him from getting the final word.

"You understand that if he gets loose...if he ever _is_ triggered...and I get wind of it?" Ross pauses, adjusting his stance to appear taller, holding up his index finger so that T'Challa briefly focuses on it, though the king remains as stoic as ever. "Even just _one_ slip up, and he's _mine_."

A small smile manifests on the king's face. He answers with an almost imperceptible nod. Ross's demeanor relaxes a bit. Surprising Bucky, he offers T'Challa his hand.

"Thank you. You and Shuri saved my life. I owe you both."

"It was nothing, Agent Ross." T'Challa takes his hand and they shake firmly. Bucky is intrigued by this new development, and he begins to feel hope, _relief_. They're going to let him stay.

"I saw you come back from the dead, man. I think you can call me Everett from now on, huh?" He actually pulls T'Challa in for an even more unexpected hug, and the two men embrace briefly. "Anyway, consider us even. No one will know he's here, just...be careful with him."

"I'll have you escorted back to the palace so you can rest before you return to America," T'Challa changes the subject, clasping Ross across the shoulders and turning him toward the exit. He nods at Okoye and she taps her spear, signaling for one of her Dora to make sure Ross finds his way back to the palace and stays there until they send him back to his country.

Bucky watches everyone else watch Ross exit the room, and when the agent is out of earshot, T'Challa turns back to face him. Bucky braces himself, meeting the king's regal gaze openly.

The Black Panther sighs, wincing a bit from his still as yet unhealed injuries. "I must confess, I warned Shuri against seeking you out this morning. I did not believe any good could come of it." Bucky frowns, his anxiety gnashing at him, but he forces himself to remain silent and calm. "I was wrong. You saved my sister's life, as I said. For that, you have my gratitude and my _trust_."

He emphasizes these last words, more meaning inside his tone than _just_ the words. T'Challa's trust is something Bucky can't take for granted. He understands that, even without the king needing to say it. "Thank you," Bucky speaks. Everyone in the room watches him, but he focuses on the king.

"I need to ask you," T'Challa continues, "do you still believe the best place for you is in there," he gestures with his chin to the cryostasis chamber next to Bucky. "Or do you think you can cope here, in the real world, until Shuri can complete your deprogramming?"

Bucky considers his answer very carefully, as it's pretty apparent T'Challa wants to be sure that his trust is not misplaced. He has to be honest...and honestly...he doesn't want to go back to sleep unless he can make sure Shuri is okay again. Even then, his curiosity about what else she can do - after gifting him his new arm, not to mention making everything about his time in her care painless and personal - is too strong to ignore. He shakes his head slowly. He can't really articulate his desire in words, but the king seems to understand, nonetheless.

"So be it," he agrees softly. "We'll find a place for you. Until then -"

"T'Challa? Okoye? What's going on? Where is Ross?" Shuri's high, musical voice interrupts the tense atmosphere, causing Bucky's focus to swing hard toward the doorway as she rushes in, filling the space with her dynamic energy.

Bucky exhales at the sight of her, still just as vibrant even though obviously weary and weighed down by the intense events of the day. Their eyes meet as soon as she crosses the threshold. She breathes with relief, and he can feel it, too. Knowing she's alright makes _him_ feel alright.

T'Challa opens his arms to embrace his sister and she rushes to him. Bucky watches their heartfelt reunion and a quiet celebration of their victory.

" _Usisi_...are you alright?" T'Challa steps back and takes her face in his free hand, tilting her chin to meet her eyes. "Hm?"

"Yes, brother. I'm fine. What's Ross going to do with Bucky? You _can't_ let the Americans take him."

They both turn to him, and he wants to reach out to her, tell her he's staying, and he's okay if she is.

"They won't," T'Challa replies good-naturedly, smiling. "Everett is returning to America, _alone_. Barnes will stay here. You'll continue your treatment. This is alright with you, I presume?"

Shuri nods with obvious relief, totally ignoring her brother's brief levity. Bucky frowns, noticing the signs of mild shock. He wants to stand, or say something, but he just sits there, watching. He can see T'Challa notices, too. Then the king winces in slight pain, and Shuri wavers on her feet, and it's very apparent how weary and weighed down by stress and emotion they _all_ are.

"You must rest, Shuri. We'll discuss this more in the morning. Umama is waiting. Go." T'Challa nods to Okoye, who immediately steps forward and reaches out to her princess. Shuri accepts Okoye's embrace, allowing the general to help her walk out again, obviously very close to succumbing to her fatigue. The adrenaline from her shock is wearing off. Bucky feels a pang of concern for her whip through him, but he remains at the mercy of the room.

He watches Okoye escort Shuri out again. Before they disappear, the young princess turns her head, meets his gaze, and mouths ' _thank you'_. He nods, trying to answer with his eyes ' _any time'._

Then she's gone. He tries to be satisfied with knowing she's relatively alright, but he still feels this inexplicable protectiveness; this intense need to see her restored to her warm, sweet, angelic self.

T'Challa allows himself to be scanned and patched up, then he and the remaining Dora take Bucky to the palace. On the way, T'Challa sits in the Talon opposite him with his eyes closed, deep in meditation. Bucky studies him, feeling respect and curiosity mingle within him for the man.

Soon after that, they are walking through the vast, opulent halls of the palace, into the guest wing, where T'Challa lets him into a large room with a big bed. It's dark and quiet; clean, lavish, and peaceful. Bucky hasn't spent a night in this kind of luxury in...well...perhaps never.

He should feel relaxed, but he can't stop thinking about how close Shuri came to her demise today.

"She gonna be alright?" He can't help uttering as he gazes around at his new sleeping quarters, feeling very out of place.

"Yes. In time. If I can convince her to slow down." T'Challa studies him silently, somehow knowing whom Bucky is referring to, and eventually, he nods. "She is strong and brilliant, my little sister. But sometimes I worry her passion can lead her to danger, time and again."

Bucky feels a type of way about this notion, but he can't quite put his finger on why it bothers him.

"Rest now, James," T'Challa says his first name quietly, wearily, with finality that won't be ignored. He turns, already headed for the door. "There is much still to be done. This will not be easy."

"I know. I'll do my best."

T'Challa smiles tiredly. "Mm, you have no choice, my friend. But... _enkosi_. Tomorrow, we'll talk. Goodnight."

Bucky can only nod humbly, kind of in awe of the man's regal, gracious, quiet kindness. That empathetic quality definitely runs in the family, it seems.

T'Challa leaves him, alone in the dark.

For a heartbeat, he regrets not just asking to be put back into cryosleep.

He feels more isolated and anxious than he's been since his time in his impoverished little flat in Bucharest.

He flexes his new vibranium fingers, walking toward the bed, unzipping his jacket and kicking off his boots. He lies down on his back, staring up at the ceiling as his tense body gets used to the plush bedding after so long of hard surfaces and cold rooms.

He's tired as hell, but wide awake. He's thinking of Shuri. _Sunshine_ , he'd taken to calling her in his head, wondering what she's doing, how she's feeling, if he'll get to see her again any time soon. What his fate will be, if he's to live a life in service to Wakanda, if he can truly live up to all they expect of him. If _she'll_ be the one to remove his triggers, or if they'd bring someone else in who isn't as kind. Somehow, that really matters to him. But the king is right, it's not like he has a choice.

This is the only place he can think of where he'll get a shot like this.

Bucky closes his eyes, but he doesn't sleep. He's _been_ asleep, too long.

He's wide awake, now. Roused to the living, waking world by a face like sunshine. One he can't get out of his head.

He realizes as he inhales deeply, that after who knows how long frozen solid and the battle they had today, he stinks. He doesn't want to soil this room (the king implied it's only temporary, though he doesn't want to try to guess where they'll put him for good) or this too-soft bed.

He gets up, looks around, spots the giant entranceway to what must be the bathroom, and goes to clean himself. At the very least, he hopes it'll distract him from worrying so much, _thinking_ too much, about shit he shouldn't be thinking about. Namely the sweet face of a girl he barely knows.

* * *

Shuri allows her mother to hug and kiss her lovingly, thanking Bast and Sekhmet for her safe return. She can't bring herself to let the thing stuck between her ribs escape, however. She hugs back, but she holds on and remains mostly silent.

She lets Okoye take her to her rooms.

She lets her mother send nurses to see to her aches and pains.

She lets them bathe and massage her.

She lets them oil her scalp and dress her for bed. But she knows she won't sleep.

She lies awake, the thick, tight _thing_ caught inside her growing more and more intense.

She had been eavesdropping while slipping into her near-catatonic state. Aside from everyone worrying about her and lamenting the massive mutiny Killmonger was able to mount among the Border Tribe, they spoke of Ross and Bucky. They were both being kept on opposite sides of the palace. She knew exactly where Bucky was. She could not stop thinking about him, wondering if he was alright, if he felt anxious or overwhelmed. If he felt some type of way about being forced awake and having to fight today. The last she saw of him, his eyes were just as vulnerable as their first meeting. She doesn't think that's a good thing.

Her mind will not quiet. She can't go back to her lab. She's hurt and exhausted, but _wide awake_.

And the _thing_ in her chest is steadily clawing its way up into her throat.

Shuri gets out of bed and slips out of her room, hiding and sprinting through the palace gardens to avoid being spotted by the guards until she arrives in the guest wing. She approaches the balcony windows of the room she is certain Bucky is in, her throat clogged and her heart fluttering, and knocks softly. After a few moments of silence only filled by the meek life in the garden, and a few glimpses of some shadow moving around in there, his pale form appears at the glass.

Bucky is there, his hard, unreadable expression melting quickly to concern once he sees who it is. He opens the window. "Princess…" his soft voice starts, but Shuri shakes her head, rushing inside past his much taller, muscular frame.

Bucky closes the window behind her and takes a few steps toward her, but stops, watching. He looks like he doesn't quite know what to do, so he just stands there, his vibranium hand flexing into a fist.

"Are you alright?" he asks quietly, his eyes roving over her, checking for injuries or signs of a deeper shock than he assesed earlier. She shakes her head. He takes another step toward her. "Do you want me to call for someone?"

Shuri can't speak, trying her hardest to keep the thing clawing for release inside her at bay.

She shakes her head, her tired eyes beseeching his. She can tell he hasn't been sleeping, either.

She looks around, trying to find the words, but none are coming. Her throat feels clogged to hell.

There's a couple of folded blankets on the floor on the side of the bed, with pillows that are dented in the shape of his massive upper body. The bed is otherwise pretty untouched.

"Sun-" he starts, pauses, then tries again, " _Princess Shuri._..you gotta give me a hint, here."

The sound of his concerned, somewhat confused tone and the Brooklyn drawl fighting to emerge again draws her attention back to him. Well, she's just drawn to him, period.

Shuri lets loose a deep, weary sigh and walks toward him, hoping she won't have to speak to let him know what she needs. She takes his flesh and blood hand, turning to lead him toward the bed. His serious, handsome features fold into a deep frown, but he doesn't protest. He simply lets her lead him, and lies down on his back at her behest. She crawls in next to him, curls up against his broad, warm chest, and lays her head there.

Just as she suspected, she is instantly affected by his mere presence, his body heat. She is lulled, soothed, safe. Shuri has no idea why it has to be _him_ , but right now she doesn't care.

Bucky doesn't breathe for a few moments, but when Shuri closes her eyes and snuggles into him, he slowly begins to relax. She can feel their energies mingling and settling, feel him sinking down into peaceful rest with her. Finally, after a long while of hesitation, he lets himself breathe in sync with her. Let's his vibranium arm, slowly and protectively, encircle her.

They lay together in the dark, breathing and falling into the deep well of fatigue that's been waiting to catch them for hours. Shuri becomes so relaxed and feels so tired that the thing she's been holding onto since she saw Naija's lifeless body finally escapes.

Bucky tenses and moves his head to gaze down at her when she begins to sob.

He doesn't try to placate her with words, he just holds her a little tighter. He watches and he waits, letting his chin rest gently in her hair as she grips his shirt and gets it all wet with her tears. She can't stop them, it seems, and they flow and flow. Bucky inhales and exhales, holding her securely, warm and all-consuming like a heated blanket, until she's empty of the raw emotion she's been holding back all day. Perhaps, even, since her Baba was killed.

She still can't speak. She just sniffs and whimpers and tries to burrow even deeper into his side. He's massive, and so warm by now that he feels like a human furnace, and best of all, he doesn't seem to mind her being there at all. Just a month ago, all she knew of this man holding her tenderly like she's family while she cries all over him was that he's a killing machine. Now all she sees is that loyal, uncannily soulful white wolf from her dreams.

Shuri unfolds herself a little more, holding him back. Listens to his heartbeat, a thing she's heard almost every night on the monitors in her lab, but a marvel to her now. She lets it hypnotize her until she's fast asleep. She thinks and mourns no more. She floats in the stars, finally at peace.

* * *

Bucky listens and watches and waits until the princess is finally asleep.

He doesn't know what led her here, but he can't help feeling intensely grateful.

Grateful that he could be of some small use, even if it's just this. Just holding her and letting her release her emotions is fine. She did the same for him in so many ways. He thinks he understands more about her, now. Being a bright light, a beacon of hope, for an entire kingdom...it's taking a toll. Even someone so young and full of amazing energy has her light dimmed by how shitty the world can be sometimes. Nothing for that. Bucky's just glad she trusts him enough - a man she barely knows - to be this vulnerable with him.

_She is strong and brilliant, my little sister. But sometimes I worry her passion can lead her to danger, time and again._

He thinks of her brother, the king's words, and remembers that fuzzy black and white image of the little girl offering a monster a flower by a lake.

He doesn't want to move. And he doesn't, for a long, long time. He lies holding onto Shuri's delicate, petite body, savoring her peaceful energy and the effect she has on him.

But he knows that by now he's being selfish and borderline inappropriate, holding her close like this. A princess, a girl he barely knows. He takes a few seconds to listen to her breathing pattern, making sure she's deep in R.E.M. sleep. He's _really_ taking a few seconds to linger in her sweet, shining orbit, absorb her kind, youthful spirit. He allows himself to close his eyes briefly and inhale the soothing scent of her hair oil. Bucky's chest caves with satisfaction...then the shame hits him, and he opens his eyes again, loosening his hold on her before he's too tempted to _really hold_ her.

He eases himself out of her arms and tucks her into the bed covers. He watches to make sure she won't wake, his eyes memorizing her angelic face like this. How her lashes practically reach down to her cheeks. How her pert lips part slightly. How she tucks her hand under her chin and whines a little under her breath, seeing whatever she's seeing in her dreams.

Shit, he's starting to care about her. He doesn't even know her.

Bucky stops his mind from racing and walks back around to the side of the bed where he'd made his palette before. He lies down, closes his eyes, and lets himself drift off to sleep listening to the sound of her breathing.

It is enough for him that she's safe, for now. He'll wake her and send her on her way in the morning, back where she belongs, with her people; her family.

He'll face his fate and do what he has to in order to stay here and be freed of the chains HYDRA has bound him in for most of his life. And then he'll thank the princess, promise her he'll always be there for her if she needs him, and be on his way.


	7. There's Just Something About Sunshine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shuri and Bucky go days without seeing each other, coming to their own conclusions about their roles in each other's lives. That all goes out the window, however, once they're in the same room again. For better or worse, they need each other in a way neither of them can even name.

Bucky blinks slowly awake the next morning, right around the break of dawn.

The princess is gone. 

The first thing he notices is the absence of her breathing sounds.

He sits up, turning to see the barest twinkle of new sunlight winking in the distance through the window she knocked on last night. 

As he peeks over the edge of the bed to confirm her physical absence, leaning on the plush mattress to shift his weight, he notices that he’s now wearing kimoyo beads around his flesh wrist. 

His eyes move from his wrist to the rumpled area of bedding where he tucked her in last night...and then to the two dented pillows she used. 

Without even thinking about it, he reaches his vibranium arm over the bed, grabs one of the pillows, and pulls it toward him. Bucky closes his eyes, presses the downy white thing to his nose and mouth, and inhales. 

_She’s all over it._

Bucky swallows hard, staring off in the distance as he resists for only a few seconds. Then he eases back down, clutching the pillow to his chest, laying on his palette again.

He inhales her a second time, eyes closed. For a heartbeat, he remembers holding her like this, and how it made him feel to have her trust him so much. _Him._ Why him? It doesn’t make any sense.

_The king trusts you, too. Don’t forget that._

His eyes flip open and he quickly props the pillow behind his head so he isn’t tempted a third time.

He shouldn’t be thinking about this - about _her_ \- so much. He should be preparing for whatever they’re going to throw at him so he can earn his place (and their trust) for as long as it takes to free his mind and restore his true identity.

 _You’re off to a great start,_ Bucky leers at himself.

 _Mind outta the gutter, Buck_...Steve would quip whenever he got distracted by a pretty girl when they were supposed to be on duty.

Is that what’s happening? **_No_ **, he rejects that immediately. This ain’t the forties and he ain’t a horny soldier on the prowl. His mind’s not in the gutter, just...very distracted. But it doesn’t need to be. 

He doesn’t have to let his trauma turn him into a scared little boy just because someone besides Steve is showing him kindness. Someone really sweet and so innocent it makes him yearn to protect her. Someone so brilliant and brave anyone who tries to do her harm should be cursed.

Sometimes he thinks he remembers...he used to be someone who took up for other people. Steve reminded him of that. Maybe that’s all this is. Maybe that’s a good thing. 

A good sign that he can do this. He can come back to himself. She helped him see it, that’s all.

It has to stay that simple. Maybe he can care a little - especially since the practice of empathy seems to be important in her family - but he shouldn’t be getting this attached. 

The beads chime softly, rousing him from his deep contemplation. He raises his wrist to examine them. He must have been really damn tired if she’d managed to slip these on without waking him. 

_Or she makes you feel safe enough to sleep through the night in a place you don’t know. When’s the last time that happened outside of being frozen solid?_

_Doesn’t matter. That won’t happen again. Even if she shows. Even if she asks. You’ll call someone._

He twists his wrist with a little more force than necessary, pushing those thoughts out of his head, and a hologram flickers on. It’s of a text on an opaque surface, looks kinda like chalkboard. 

It animates before his eyes. Bucky watches as the somewhat hieroglyphical design of the Xosha words flip like a picture book to English and back again, back and forth. 

**_ENKOSI, INGCUKA / \ THANK YOU, WOLF_ **

Then there’s a flat little brown face with a crown on her head and streaming tears coming out of her eyes, and a flat little white and grey wolf face, and another little brown face with her eyes closed, three tiny blue ‘z’ shapes floating away from her crown. 

Bucky frowns at the word ‘wolf’, and the funny little pictures, trying to fight off a smile, but it breaks through. He gets the chalkboard; his first lesson in her language. And the little princess, at first crying, then sleeping. But the wolf part he has to think about.

He remembers their first meeting, when she promised him she would give him a new nickname to get used to. He gazes at the small drawing of a white wolf, and watches the words flip back and forth for a few seconds more. Not like any princess he’s ever known of...

He likes the name. Though he might just keep that part to himself and let her call him that if she feels like it, or not. Up to her. 

Bucky sighs and twists his wrist again, shutting off the hologram. He has to fight the instinct to try using the beads to text her back _‘Any time, Sunshine’_. Seems like something he would do, say, way back when. But he’ll keep that to himself, too. 

Instead, he gets up, rolls up his palette, remakes the bed, and gets dressed. 

Soon, the sun is showing itself, and he’s starving. Luckily, someone comes with breakfast before he goes looking. It’s a big spread, sweet and savory, full of amazing textures and rich colors. He tries (and almost finishes) a little of everything. When another guard comes to collect his empty plates, he’s given a few changes of simple clothes to wear, and instructions to wait where he is until the king can see him. 

So that’s what he does. He waits.

He won’t see T’Challa, or Sunshine, for another eight days. 

The first major test of his endurance and resolve, he soon finds out.

* * *

Shuri checks her reflection in her enormous vanity mirror for the hundredth time, trying to arrange her features into something other than frustration and impatience. 

She takes a deep, calming breath, and tries again. Her face softens, and she manages a warm smile.

There. That’s more like it. More like herself. She _feels_ like herself. She feels lighter and more rested than she’s felt in weeks. Almost as if all the turmoil they’d been thrown into is in the distant past.

Truthfully, she’s been doing well - or at least, as well as can be expected.

N’Jadaka was buried and honored at Warrior Falls at T’Challa’s behest. They all mourned for him, along with the ones they lost. Naija and those of the Border Tribe who could not be reasoned with before it was too late. They held a trial for the mutineers, including W'Kabi. It broke their hearts, but the council felt it had no choice but to condemn them all to indefinite hard labour. Some in the Jabari outlands, some in the very lowest levels of the Great Mound, and the rest spread out at other refineries they held around the world. There was hope for parole and rehabilitation, but not for a long time. 

They all made peace. Okoye. Queen Mother. Nakia. T’Challa. The council. Everyone agreed it’s time for an era of peace, now. 

Shuri started by making peace with the dark things Baba hid from them. She and T’Challa and ‘Mama decided to put it behind them and move forward, better and more evolved for it.

While T’Challa and Nakia are away bringing their peacekeeping mission to the rest of the world, Shuri is basically put on palace arrest. Confined to spending time with ‘Mama, resting, reading, walking in the garden, anything to take her mind off work and ‘everything that caused her so much stress’ before her cousin’s destructive arrival.

She was happy to go along this time, not having the energy or heart to resist. At first, it was nice. Eventually, she stopped having nightmares about poor Naija, and almost being beheaded by the vicious swipe of vibranium claws she herself designed. And she loved being doted on by her mother, no matter how old she got. She missed her bed, and her rooms and all of the creature comforts of being home, too, having spent so many days and nights huddled over her work in her bright, timeless lab.

But now she’s restless. She feels trapped. And she hasn’t stopped thinking about Ingcuka, his wellbeing, how understanding he was the first night after the battle...and how silent he’s been since. He never answered her text or reached out to her on the kimoyo beads she left him. She resists texting him again or going to him, but she’s always thinking of him, especially at night.

Besides, she’s being watched these days, by every Dora and member of the King’s Guard in the damned kingdom, it seems. 

Well, today will be the end of that, she determined this morning when she opened her eyes after a night of tossing and turning, thinking about how much work she still has to do with Bucky.

They can’t continue keeping her from her work like this. It isn’t fair. If she has to throw a tantrum, so be it.

“Just tell Umama and Okoye you’re done,” she tries to big herself up, straightening her bright orange crop top and the high-waisted cream slacks she chose for this confrontation. “You’re a boss. You’ve got this.”

 _There’s no telling what’s become of my damned lab,_ she grumbles in her mind as she marches out of the bathroom and slips her feet into the gold sandals she’d left haphazardly by the closet.

She opens her doors and, of course, one of the guards is there in her face immediately.

“Princess, allow me to escort you - ”

She holds up a hand for him to stop, crushing her eyes shut with impatience. “Save it. I’m going to see the Queen Mother and I know my way perfectly fine, thank you.”

He hesitates, but steps aside to let her pass. She spies him leaning down to whisper into his kimoyo beads, however, and she knows he’s alerting the others that she’s on the move. _Like a swarm of bees_ , her mind’s voice grits, causing her to growl under breath and stomp down the hallway.

Shuri tries to calm down and drop her attitude as she walks the expansive pathway through the palace to her mother’s rooms. She knows that if she goes in there huffing and puffing she’ll get nowhere. She needs to make a rational, intellectual argument. 

Her work must continue, it’s the king’s orders. Bucky can’t stay hanging around the palace forever, and neither can she or she’ll go mad.

She rehearses her arguments as she closes in on her destination, arranging her features into as neutral an expression as she can muster. Two Dora flank the doors, and she nods at them sweetly as she steps up to knock. “Morning,” she chirps a little too enthusiastically.

They both bow their heads respectfully, and she hears a quiet, neutral “morning, princess…” from them both. So far, so good. No one’s stopping her or treating her like she’s on the run.

Okoye opens the door before Shuri manages to knock. She offers a smile, though her eyes are wary, watchful, and steps aside to allow Shuri to pass. “My princess. We were expecting you.”

 _Oh, goody,_ Shuri thinks, trying not to let disappointment befall her before she’s even started. She merely nods, but she can’t manage a smile. She moves past Okoye inside, breaking eye contact to seek out her mother’s normally affectionate face.

She does find that affection when her mother turns from pouring Shuri a cup of tea from her sitting position near the open floor-to-ceiling windows. The sunlight drifting in through the sheer curtains makes her look quite angelic with her white locs flowing down her back. 

Shuri finds affection as her mother sets the tea kettle down and opens her arms, but it's guarded and shrewd. “Come, sit, Bibi.”

 _Bast, it’s a trap._ The princess swallows, now thirsty even for hot tea, and accepts her mother’s embrace. Okoye hovers somewhere behind her, obviously part of this ambush.

Ramonda pats the free space on the long, red and gold chase before offering her the tea.

Shuri sits down and takes the tea, sniffing to smell that it’s her favorite black with milk and honey. She lets the pleasant aroma sooth her nerves and calm her frustration. She decides to just sip and listen. And while she listens she’ll work out all the kinks in her argument. Fair enough.

Ramonda sips her own tea, apparently not in any rush, and turns slightly to get a better look at her daughter. “Shuri…” she hums, tilting her head expectantly, “I know you didn’t come here to bargain with me as if you’re some sort of prisoner in your own home.”

Shuri opens her mouth, thinks about it, and shrinks back a little. “No, ‘Mama,” she answers quietly. 

Ramonda’s smile warms considerably and she nods, setting her tea cup on its saucer. “Good, ilanga. You had me worried for a moment.”

“Speaking of worried, ‘Mama…” Shuri sets her cup down as well, only having the stomach for one sip, it turns out. She has to get this out. “I know I worried you before, you and T’Challa, and everyone else.” She shakes her head with restrained passion. “But I’m alright, now. I’ve had my rest. I’ve really enjoyed the last few days here with you.” She reaches over to take her mother’s hand earnestly, trying to let her know she means it.

Ramonda picks her daughter’s hand up and caresses it with her smooth cheek, sighing. She pats Shuri there patiently. “I know, sweetheart. I know. As have I. It’s been so nice to have my sweet girl back, and to see you looking more like yourself again.”

Shuri tries not to get her hopes up, or rush into begging to be let go. Ramonda’s eyes twinkle, and she glances at Okoye, who also looks like she’s slightly amused. Well, they aren’t making it easy for her to avoid getting annoyed, are they? 

“It’s just that,” she starts again, queuing up a few of her primary arguments, “I don’t even know what’s going on with my lab. I need to regroup with my aides, I’ve never left them without instruction for so long, and..and..you know, T’Challa expects some progress on _Ingcu_ \--I-I mean Sergeant Barnes when he returns. If you keep me from my lab any longer, I’ll have nothing to show for it, and I’ve _never_ missed a deadline before.”

Ramonda laughs a little, causing her daughter to clamp her mouth shut. “My darling daughter, of course I won’t keep you. But I must ask you,” she takes both Shuri’s hands now, “what makes you think you won’t have anything to show for this...Ingcuka, is that right?” 

Shuri is mortified when Ramonda turns to confirm the name with Okoye of all people. Okoye nods, obviously holding back her own opinion on whether or not it suits the white man in their midst.

“What do you mean, mother?” Shuri demands, fed up with this coy act of theirs. She loves and respects her mother, but it isn’t often that she’s the last person to know something in any room.

“Shuri.” Ramonda’s mirthful twinkle fades somewhat, though her warm smile remains. This one patient, wise. “You are such a kind soul, always so concerned with everyone else’s wellbeing. Everyone but your own. It’s what makes you such a wonderful young woman...but if you aren’t careful, my love, it can also be a danger to you. Do you understand?”

“He is _not_ dangerous anymore. Not to me, anyway. He saved my life.”

Her mother again exchanges an unreadable look with Okoye. “That may be, ilanga, but that isn’t what I mean, exactly. Shuri, do you truly believe you are the _only_ one responsible for this man? That you are the only soul in Wakanda T’Challa charged with seeing to it that he fulfils the terms of his asylum?”

Shuri blinks hard, the room feeling a bit heavy for a moment, as it dawns on her. Suddenly, her blinders have been pulled off, and her tunnel vision breaks away from the man she’s been so obsessed with saving for weeks. _Of course,_ it’s not all up to her. Of course. 

She takes a deep breath, rubbing her mother’s hands with her thumbs in a signal that she finally understands. “No. I don’t. That would be silly of me. I only meant-”

“I know you mean well. And you _do_ well. I see it every day, how your mind and your work saves and improves the lives of our people. Soon, the rest of the world will benefit from your tremendous gifts!” 

She shakes Shuri’s hands proudly, letting go of one to reach over and stroke her daughter’s cheek. 

“Until then, for the love of Bast, _slow down_ , child. You might accidentally gain some perspective from us _non_ -geniuses, hm? Drink your tea. That man isn’t going anywhere, and neither is your lab.”

Shuri closes her eyes briefly in relief and lets her mother’s amazing ability to puzzle her out wash over her. Still, she hesitates before she can completely relax. Ramonda flips her eyes to the ceiling in amused exasperation.

“Okoye will take you to work when you’ve had breakfast. Tea. _Now,_ Shuri.”

And her daughter truly beams, eagerly taking her tea in her lap and digging in for a few indulgent sips before it gets too cool.

* * *

  
  
Shuri sits in the passenger seating in the Royal Talon, her fingers moving quickly across the hologram projected by her new kimoyo beads. 

She’s been conferencing and texting nonstop since she finished breakfast and was finally allowed to start working. She already has a laundry list of projects to start as soon as she sets foot in the place, including planning Bucky’s first therapy session. She wants real results to talk to T’Challa about when he and Nakia return. 

She’s feeling so excited to get started that it takes her a little too long to notice the weighty silence emanating from the cockpit of the Talon, where Okoye is flying them toward the Great Mound.

Shuri pauses her planning, shutting off her beads. “How are you feeling, ‘Koye?” 

Okoye takes in a deep breath from her cross-legged position in the pilot seat as Shuri gently touches her shoulders, gazing down at her, waiting. They have all been through a lot, but perhaps no one had to give up more than Okoye. Not only losing one of her youngest and most promising Dora, but also her husband, to Killmonger’s murderous anarchy. “I will be fine, princess. I believe in Bast’s will, and my king. My _true_ king. So...I will be fine.” 

Okoye gestures with her chin, drawing Shuri’s attention to the fields, now restored to their lustrive glory after such a hard fought battle, as they close in on the entrance to the Great Mound.

There, in the near distance, she can see a battalion of Dora Milaje training together. Shuri can make them out, their bright crimson armor moving in mesmerizing sync, as they face off against an unknown foe. She leans in, squinting as they fly closer, lower. Tall, broad, and fast, but it’s the pale skin and the glint of gold and black vibranium that reveals their sparring partner’s identity. 

It’s Bucky. The Talon flies over them quickly, only giving Shuri a few seconds to watch him fend off a well synchronized attack by no less than seven Dora. It’s all she needs. Her heart soars as the Talon descends, making her belly feel weightless. 

Something stirs in her, something more than pride and excitement that her ‘pet project’ is already working well without _her_ having to work around the clock to see results. 

Okoye lands the Talon and Shuri tries not to immediately seek him out as soon as they emerge from the catwalk, but of course even her body stubbornly resists her mind.

She turns and lifts her hand to shield her eyes from the high sun as she gazes out into the field. The sounds of the Doras yelling and clashing their spears together reach her on the wind.

She finds him, rolling in the grass to escape their tight circle hold on him. He growls loudly as one of the Dora uses his own bent leg as a stepping stool to run up and tackle him from behind. Shuri watches, tensing, holding her breath. Bucky falls to one knee briefly, but then reaches up and swiftly (though not hard enough to do serious damage, she can tell even from all the way over here) throws her off of him, onto her back into the grass.

He manages to stand, but two more are on him with lightning speed. He deflects their blows with his vibranium arm easily, but the more of them that surround him, the more quickly they are able to trap him again in a stalemate. Their spears interlock - around his arms, bucking him to his knees, then his chest. He groans hard with the effort to resist falling to them all at once.

It’s thrilling to watch. 

Not only does it make her wonder just what he’s really capable of when he’s fully unleashed, it also lets her know, once again, that her mother and Okoye are right. She doesn’t need to babysit him, or baby him. He isn’t a pet. He’s a human being, with a life and a mind of his own. A mind she will be dedicated to setting free, but it is very silly of her to try to be his everything out of some misguided notion that her genius can solve it all.

“He sent for me a few mornings ago, to my surprise.” Okoye is suddenly next to her (or maybe she’s been there the whole time, watching her princess stare at him). She also shields her eyes, nodding in the direction of the mele. “Wanting to train, learn our ways. He’s not bad.”

“Pretty good, I’d say,” Shuri laughs when all seven Dora, working together, take him down to the ground, burying him beneath them. He manages to pick two of them up and keep going, diving into a roll to escape, then tossing a stolen spear at Ayo. She easily deflects with her own spear before she’s on him in direct hand-to-hand assault. “They are _not_ holding back, and look at him!”

Okoye shrugs, obviously impressed, her expression belying the tone of her words. “His style is too fixed. Too...cold. He needs more fluidity. More listening. More acting in _service_ to his fellow warriors, not just his own survival. But that will come in time. He is very disciplined, and _very_ dedicated, I will give him that.”

She and Shuri watch a few moments more, until a call from one of her aides distracts her again. As they enter the mound, Shuri becomes more and more excited to get to work. Okoye notices, eyeing her sideways with silent appreciation to see her looking so refreshed and sweet, no longer stressed or grieving. 

“No more worrying yourself sick, Shuri. Have a little trust in us. We’re here to _help_ you carry this burden.”

Shuri stops in her tracks and hugs Okoye. After a moment, the Dora general returns the embrace tightly and with lingering affection. 

“Ayo and myself are meeting your brother and Nakia at the U.N. tonight before his speech tomorrow, so I won’t see you for a few days. But I’ll make sure to let the king know how well _‘Ingcuka’s’_ doing, eh?” 

Okoye winks teasingly and laughs, backing away to leave a slightly embarrassed Shuri to her work.

* * *

Ayo wins out over Bucky, her knee buried in his chest and the tip of her spear at his throat.

He lands on his back, blinking in surprise before collapsing fully in defeat.

She smirks, the day’s bright sunlight obscuring her face for a moment as she removes her knee and reaches down to help him get to his feet. 

All it took was one glimpse of Princess Shuri, watching him from a distance, and he was distracted enough to let himself get taken out after almost an hour of holding his own.

“A deal’s a deal, Ingcucka,” Ayo leans on her spear, raising an expectant eyebrow as she catches her breath. 

Bucky breathes deeply, stands up straight, and nods. “Hm, yeah. Had a feeling you’d say that.”

He agreed on their way out here before sunrise this morning that if he lost this bout, he’ll fight again without the use of the vibranium ‘weapon’ they call his arm. 

Ayo grins and holds her hand out to him. He pays up - carefully removing the warm metal arm and handing it over. She lets the weight of it settle in her grip, examining the new appendage with interest, before passing it back to one of the others to keep away from the fight zone. They all ditch their spears, too. 

She turns back and gets into position, allowing him to say when he’s ready. She’s barely broken a sweat, but he’s proud to see it, because Ayo in particular has been kicking his ass today. They all have, giving him just the kind of activity and challenge he needs to feel more like himself, wrap his mind around his place here, stop thinking so much about _her_.

The other Dora surround him now as he forces himself not to glance in the direction of the last place he caught sight of the princess. 

Her lab is inside the Mound, of course she’s here. He’s glad she’s here. _Out and about_ , anyway. It’s been days, and though he’s only ventured between here and the palace, he hasn’t seen or heard of hide nor hair of her. He was starting to worry she was still feeling drained - _or worse_ \- came to her senses and decided an emotionally unstable super assassin is maybe the last person she should be dealing with (let alone confiding in) after what her family went through.

Bucky managed to get used to constantly batting away thoughts of her at night, even as he steadily chased away her soothing scent from using the pillows she’d slept on so much.

He took the initiative, sought out the Dora general, humbly asked for some way to occupy himself by training with her warriors. If he was to serve as _‘an adopted son and guardian’_ , he guessed the main thing he’ll be guarding is the throne they almost lost. Luckily for him, Okoye seems impressed with his work ethic, so he does what she or Ayo asks him without question or complaint. He’s already learned a hell of a lot in just a matter of days.

But he’s also constantly watching for Sunshine out of the corner of his eye. 

_Of course_ she shows up during the one moment he isn’t surreptitiously searching, radiant in bright orange and white, her hair down and flowing, her slender hand shielding her angelic face from him as she watches him get his ass kicked. He’s just glad she isn’t watching for this part.

Bucky puts his lingering thoughts of the princess away and tries to center himself, assessing where each Dora stands around him; which ones he can take down first. He nods to Ayo that he’s ready.

They attack one by one, to be fair to him, but they still don’t hold back. He manages to get the upper hand by sheer strength and superfast reflexes alone, but he accepts victory humbly. If he was truly injured or distracted, they could have beaten him. 

Bucky gathers, they all feel like they have something to prove, not just him. 

They’re taking this as seriously, and investing themselves just as much, as he is. Killmonger’s shadow still looms over these fields, he can tell. 

They all crowd around him, petting him and congratulating him on persevering in a fight well fought. They call him _‘Ingcuka’_ with playful trills, making him feel he’s being teased more than praised, somehow, but it doesn’t bother him. He has no idea if Shuri told them to call him that or not, but he isn’t going to speak on it either way. He likes them. He’s glad to be here. He’ll take it.

Ayo helps him replace his vibranium arm and he partakes in a much needed water break with them. They pass him a bottle and some melon they’re all sharing, sitting around him in a circle.

They chat casually with each other in Xosha, and he tries to follow along, still learning and not comfortable enough yet to speak it himself. He does recognize quite a few words from his hours of study at night while unable to sleep. He’s taught himself enough to listen out for when they’re mentioning the king, or the royal family...or the princess.

Mostly, he gathers they do a lot of worrying about her, just like him. Okoye and Ayo especially. 

Secondly, he can’t be sure and he’s still learning a few of the words that can connect the dots, but he thinks Shuri is going to celebrate a birthday soon. A matter of months. Either that, or she had been planning a birthday celebration for someone before all the hell - possibly the Dora they lost, Naija. They speak fast, with their own personal tones and inflections sometimes, and he doesn’t want to seem like he’s prying. Or spying. He just sticks to mulling over his own thoughts most times, unless someone says something to him in English.

One of the longest-serving Dora next to Ayo, N’Yuna, asks him curiously: “You’re to stay here in Wakanda for a while, yes, Ingcuka?” He nods politely, marveling at how quickly Shuri’s nickname is taking off. “Where will you live?” 

Bucky frowns, wiping melon juice from his mouth as he thinks about it. “Uh, not sure. Staying in the palace right now, though if you ask me, they _gotta_ kick me out soon. I’m stinkin’ up the joint.”

A ripple of laughter goes through his audience as his wry humor emerges without him realizing it. 

Something about this feels familiar. A crowd of beautiful, smiling women, laughing at his jokes, teasing him just to see him blush. Only thing missing is…Steve. And maybe Sunshine. She’s a charmer, but their every encounter so far has seen him on edge and saying as little as possible. He suddenly has a very strong desire to change that dynamic. He gets distracted by thoughts about how to surprise her with some real humor, show her he’s human, make her laugh.

One of the Dora closest to him, a brand new recruit like him, touches his arm kindly. “Don’t worry. Wakanda has the most beautiful lands in the world. Wherever you go, _you’ll fall in love_.”

“And we’ll _still_ take you down, oh! Swimming the Riverlands, stomping through the Jabari mountains or rolling in the mud banks of the Borderlands!” Ayo calls, tapping her spear.

Bucky allows himself a soft laugh as the women chant and tap their spears. He has another feeling, a sense of belonging he hasn’t felt since he served with the Commandos. Does he remember that? Trudging through the German wilderness with eight other men, singing to each other to pass the time and save their sanity...what were their names…?

 _He wants to remember._ He wants to see Shuri and ask her to please, _please_ help him remember.

He tries not to let it show, but Bucky becomes very introspective and somber as the Dora Milaje surrounding him fall into cheerful conversation in Xosha once again.

As the group call it a day and retreat to load into the hovercraft that will take them all home, N’Yuna catches up to him. “You should consider the Riverlands, Ingcuka.” She lifts her chin at him, studying him shrewdly. “You look like a man who could use a rest. The villages there are some of the most peaceful in Wakanda. At night, the moon shines _sooo_ bright along the river…!”

“Are you from there?” He’s intrigued by her passion. It causes her to behave more openly than he’s seen of any of the Dora since he got here. The others tease him in Xhosa, give him a good fight, but they let him be for the most part.

She nods proudly. “If you do go there, make your way downriver to a beautiful little town on the edge, Yeda. See Chief N’Yansa. He has a farmstead of red stone there. Mention I sent you and you’ll be treated like a prince!”

Bucky has to laugh at that because it’s the last thing he wants, but he graciously agrees. “That sounds really amazing. Uh.. _enkosi?_ ” 

She beams at his awkward pronunciation. “Yes! _Wamkelekile, Ingcuka._ ”

He gets her to repeat the names of the town and chief (her grandfather, she confirms) to memorize. Then they take off, and he settles into reflective silence again as the glider heads toward the palace.

He daydreams of a peaceful life along the river here in Wakanda. 

Maybe a little farmstead of red stone, like N’Yuna’s grandfather. 

Maybe occasional visits from Sunshine, just to see how he is. 

She’s sweet enough that he knows she will. Hopes.

He closes his eyes to savor the dream. The Dora leave him be.

* * *

Shuri types in the last of her notes on the last of Bucky’s triggers. _Freight Car._

The last place he was when he was still Bucky Barnes. The place where he fell to his first death. 

Used against him for his second death and subsequent rebirth. Locking the lie in place that his old self is no more. All he is now: a killing machine. 

Stripped of human identity. A Fist, a Soldier, an Asset. 

But he is _more_ than that. Steve Rogers believes it. T’Challa believes it. _Shuri believes it._

“I _will_ free you,” she whispers. She _knows_ it. Not just because she dreamed it. She is armed with her mind, the spirit of Wakandan pride, and true, pure science. She still has a few arrangements to make (namely getting the elders to let her use the healing pools), but she is set up enough that she’s confident in her methods.

Shuri takes a deep breath of satisfaction.

She carefully reads over her work a final time, then forces herself to shut everything down and get up from her desk.

She stretches, yawns, and checks the time. Only a couple of hours past dinner, which she’d taken here at the lab (after checking in with ‘Mama to let her know). Not bad. Not overworking herself at all. She’s a little sore in her back and neck, but she’s not even that tired.

One of the King’s Guard escorts her home tonight, following her on his own hoverbike as she elects to drive this time. She lets the windows of her Jeep down as she roars through Central Wakanda, letting the breeze and the fragrant scents of the marketplace and various neighborhood trees soothe her. 

She turns on music, trying to wind down from a full day’s work. Trying to quiet her mind.

But she is distracted, of course. Thinking of Bucky. _Ingcuka._

She did a good job minding her own business while he trained with the Dora in the fields all day.

 _You’re not his babysitter, Shuri,_ she had to remind herself every hour, it seems.

Tomorrow, she can have him come to prepare for his first therapy session, but there’s no reason to jump the gun, as Americans like to say. Or is it the shark? Whichever. 

When she’s back at the palace in her rooms, Shuri tries not to dread laying down on her bed, tossing and turning all night, unable to really reach deep sleep yet again.

She feels rested, almost normal. She feels a lot better and certainly less emotional than she was just over a week ago. But she’s still... _missing_...something. Yearning. Something is bothering her.

Something her intellectual mind cannot puzzle out. 

She almost wishes she had more of Umama’s tea to spare, but she’s using it all for Bucky.

Shuri bathes and dresses for bed, walking back into her dark bedchamber and climbing into bed.

She finishes gently rubbing her hair oil into her long braids and stimulating her scalp with her fingers, sighing hard and flopping down on her back.

After a few minutes of sighing futility in the dark, she sits up a little to punch her pillows into submission. That doesn’t work.

She still can’t get comfortable, even in her satin pajamas and downy bedding.

She thinks, and thinks, and the more she thinks, the more annoyed she gets.

She has been very welcoming and protective of Bucky since the moment he arrived.

She thought they had at least established some kind of connection, after all her dreams and her vision, and how protective he was during battle, following her lead up until the very end.

But after he so kindly helped her sleep that one terrible night, he’s been silent. Why? 

She has to know. Unsatisfied, Shuri sits up again and activates her kimoyo beads. 

She hesitates, the faint light of the holoscreen glowing across her pensive face.

She doesn’t think he’ll know what the hell to do with a video hologram of her beseeching gaze.

So, she opts to send a text instead, but commits to expressing her disappointment.

**_Sergeant Barnes. How are you? Why have you been ignoring me?_ **

She hits send without thinking, but immediately regrets it. She winces at the impatient insistence in her ‘tone’. She hopes she isn’t coming off like a spoiled princess. _Brat_ , she chastises herself.

After too many minutes of biting her lip fit to ache, she finally gets a response. 

**_Bucky, plez princess. Not ignoring you. You needed to rest._ **

Shuri grins broadly, immediately suspecting that even though he is a world-class assassin with no shortage of knowledge of how to bring down whole countries - he might just be a little stumped by kimoyo beads. Or, texting etiquette in general. The prospect of teaching him excites her.

She watches with increasing endearment as a series of clumsy, meandering followup texts roll in. 

**_I’m good._ **

**_Ready for therapy._ **

**_Dora kickin my ass._ **

**_Everyone calls me wolf. That you?_ **

**_How are you?_ **

Another long pause, and Shuri can hardly contain her broad smile and soaring heart. He is adorable. Eventually, one last text comes in.

**_You sleeping ok?_ **

She hesitates just a moment, debating with herself, arguing with her strongest instincts. She wants...she _needs_ ...to see those vulnerable eyes of his. Not a hologram. In person. She can’t wait until tomorrow. She craves his soft voice, and his warmth, and his quiet acceptance, the way he showed her that night. _That night_ when she could finally sleep cuddled against him, and quiet her mind, and float in the stars without even trying. She doesn’t need herbal tea when she’s with Ingcuka. That’s what she’s missing. Shuri can no longer fight it, or deny it. Maybe it makes her selfish, or spoiled, or naive, or all three...but she doesn’t care.

She quickly taps out a response and shuts down her beads. 

**_Hold that thought..._ **

Forcing herself to ignore her spinning thoughts and just _move_ , she rises from the bed and hurries to her window.

She has to stop and hide a bit more than the first time she tried this, her watchers lurking even in the gardens now. But she makes it to his side of the palace, sneaking up to his balcony window, and knocks. She’s utterly breathless waiting for him to appear, realizing with more clarity than even this morning, _exactly_ what she wants. What she _needs_. Or she won’t sleep. It’s as certain as breathing.

She waits. Hoping he’ll understand, like he did before.

* * *

  
  


Bucky’s heart freezes when she sends her second text.

Admittedly, he was asking for it.

He couldn’t help it. 

When he got back from his sixth day of training with the Dora Milaje, he did everything he could to distract himself. He showered, washed his hair. He thought about Steve, trying to remember their lives together. He misses his pal. Even kinda misses Sam giving him shit all the time.

He started doing some research on his kimoyo beads about Wakanda, and the royal family.

The council. King T’Challa. T’Chaka before him. Queen Mother Ramonda. General Okoye. Nakia. 

Shuri. Only eighteen (going on thirty), but _seriously_ _accomplished_ , not to mention a super genius.

One of the world’s leading engineers, if she could claim her achievements out in the open.

Wakanda’s isolationist policies prevented her from stepping into the spotlight to claim ownership over some pretty hefty engineering feats. Since she was thirteen, according to Wakandan lore, she’s been bringing Wakanda far past the advancements of the known world. The domes, the sonic trains in the Mound, the weapons, the vehicles, the way they use vibranium these days in their clothes and all through the land. Bucky is in awe. HYDRA’s suspicion was correct. There _is_ something much bigger and much more precious than what’s in the Great Mound hidden behind the borders of Wakanda, but it ain’t thousands of years worth of vibranium.

The more he studies, the more impressed and endeared he becomes.

Then she sends a text after days of silence, the chalkboard and the big words glaring back at him.

**_Why are you ignoring me?_ **

The thought that she feels anything negative about him gets to him.

He lies on his back on the palette on the floor, staring at her passionate words, picturing her in some room somewhere in the palace that’s bigger and more opulent than his. _Nah, Sunshine,_ he thinks, his chest caving in with tender affection despite knowing that it’s a terrible idea to feel this way. _I’m never ignoring you. You’re all I think about._

He lays there, her pillows tucked behind his head, not smelling so much like her anymore. His instincts take over the way they did his first morning in the palace, when he caught her scent on those pillows in the first place.

And he starts to text, slowly, clumsily, still getting used to the controls of the beads. He tries to sound open, maybe even friendly, but also serious and respectful.

He can’t help asking if she’s sleeping. He’s been worried about that, not just because _he_ can’t sleep, either. It isn’t the mattress, so much. It’s maybe being alone. _Being without_ **_her_ ** _, just admit it._

He waits for a very long minute for her answer, squinting up at the bright hologram emanating from the beads she’d wrapped around his wrist. 

**_Hold that thought..._ **

Bucky’s heart stops. He instantly knows what she’s going to do, and he suddenly becomes terrified.

If she comes here, he doesn’t know if he can turn her away.

_Doesn’t matter if she shows. Doesn’t matter if she asks. Call someone and send her on her way._

He tries to bargain with himself, but he knows it isn’t the same this time.

She didn’t sound like she was having a breakdown. More like she’s disappointed that they haven’t seen each other. That’s dangerous for him. Because he feels the same way. He’s alright if he knows she is. But he has no one to lie to but himself. He knows what he wants. What he _misses like crazy_ , even though he’s only had a small taste of it. What he’s been trying not to think about for days as he spars with the Dora Milaje and struggles to sleep at night.

She’s coming. 

_What are you gonna do? Call someone._ **_No._ ** _Just hear her out._

He hears a knock on his window.

He rises from the palette on the side of the bed, moving toward the window without even thinking.

He sees her silhouette in the darkness through the glass. She’s wrapped in silk pajamas, her small hands clutched to her chest anxiously. Her long braids falling down her back and across her petite shoulders. Her sweet face shrouded in shadow. So vulnerable, standing out there in the dark garden, waiting for him.

Bucky slides open the window. 

Shuri hesitates, gazing up at him with a bit more self-awareness than that first night.

All he sees is that she needs him again. It’s all _he_ needs. All thoughts of turning her away disappear.

He reaches for her, taking her in his arms, picking her up to cradle against his broad chest.

 _God_ , she’s warm, and so diminutive inside his orbit. So light, so lovely, and _so soft._

Shuri lets him pick her up and carry her across the threshold, wrapping her arms around his neck as he nudges the window shut again with his foot.

One look in her eyes, and he’s lost. 

Bucky leans in, closes his winter blues, and inhales her spicy-sweet, overpowering scent. 

His broad chest rises and falls deeply as it bowls him over, and he clutches her just a little tighter to him with both his vibranium and flesh hands.

Shuri nuzzles her nose into his neck, making a sweet little noise as she hugs him tighter.

Bucky carries her across the room, breathing her in, not even having to look where he’s going.

He eases down onto the bed with her. They don’t speak. She wriggles into his side, lays her head across his chest, clutching at him, inhaling deeply with relief.

His vibranium arm encircles her again, this time with more confidence than before.

He breathes, settling into the soft mattress with her tucked against him. Their body heat mingles and swarms. His broad chest rises and falls as he finds her rhythm and syncs with it. 

She relaxes into him, and he into her, her fingers playing with the tips of his hair. 

She makes him feel a way he hasn’t known he could feel in so, so long.

Sweet, bright, kind, warm _Sunshine._

Bucky just floats in her embrace, breathing with her, holding her close, his face buried in her braids, until she drifts off into the stars. 

He doesn’t know what will become of him here in Wakanda. All he knows is hope. 

The princess Shuri gives it to him with her mere presence. 

He won’t fight it. Not like this, in the dark of night, with no one watching.

Shuri sighs with satisfaction, whining a little as she falls asleep.

Bucky smiles lethargically into her hair. Holds her just a little closer. 

That intense need to protect her seizes him again. He won’t let any harm come to her.

He brings his flesh and blood arm up to close the circle of his embrace. He lets himself squeeze her tightly to him for just a moment before finally falling into a deep, peaceful slumber.

_Mmm...Sunshine..._

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	8. "Do you trust me?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the light of a new day - the day of their first trigger session - Shuri finds herself in Bucky's arms again. She catches feelings, and she catches them hard. So does Bucky. Meanwhile, someone else catches on to them and decides that it's time for the asylum seeker to move on from the palace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed a long holiday. I know I did, spending time with family, including my lovely mother - and writing my face off. Why am I so drawn to this story? No idea, but I hope you enjoy it as much as I am. THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR YOUR AMAZING REVIEWS! I'll be answering each and every one of them :)
> 
> -MM

Shuri opens her eyes slowly. She's still wrapped in Bucky's arms, her head cradled against his chest.

He slumbers on, both his vibranium and flesh arms in a loose embrace around her, locked in place by his interlaced fingers at the small of her back.

He feels so warm when she's near him like this; his embrace so cozy, so safe. There is something about being here, in his arms, that makes Shuri feel as if _nothing_ can harm her.

She tentatively moves her head, inch by inch so as not to disturb him, until she can look up and see his handsome features. Brows relaxed, heart-shaped lips pursed slightly, dark lashes downturned.

Just the way he looked when he was in cryosleep, only _so_ _the opposite_ of frozen this time.

Shuri snuggles into him, daring to get closer, study the plains and valleys of his countenance.

Her mind wanders lazily as her eyes draw out the lines of his lips, chin, jaw, nose.

A deadly assassin with such a pretty face. Such gentle eyes. She wonders if they groomed him to use his looks to his advantage. They must have. He gets this look on his face at times that's very intimidating, but right now he's so soft. Shuri can see that young, brave soldier from the grainy footage in him when he's like this. She wants so badly to reintroduce him to that soldier.

Bucky's breath breezes into her hair as his chest lifts and lowers her like a tranquil ocean tide.

The first time, she had behaved herself and only paused long enough to give him her beads.

Now, however, she feels no inclination to move at all, even though dawn has already arrived.

Shuri feels that soaring in her heart again, that dip in her belly, as she watches Bucky sleeping.

She's done this many times before while he was in cryosleep, but never _like this_. Never this close, wrapped in his arms, after having slept next to him and listened to his heartbeat and the air moving in and out of his lungs. She feels such a strong sense of belonging, right here, exactly where she is, that it almost takes her breath away.

In her vision, the White Wolf ran with the Warrior Princess for the rest of his days.

Thinking of it now, that dip in her belly flashes to intense heat.

_Bast_ , she really, _really_ cares about him. _Oh no._

Shuri starts to get nervous, even a little scared, when he takes a sharp breath and flinches awake.

Suddenly those gentle, winter blue eyes are on her, up close and in full force, and she wants to melt right into his t-shirt.

Bucky exhales slowly, flexing his vibranium arm encircling her slim back. Shuri gets lost in his eyes, holding her breath, trying to think of some excuse for why he's just caught her staring at him while he was asleep. He doesn't speak, though, just gazes at her, his eyes roaming across the expanse of her face. Then he squeezes her tightly to him again, this time with his flesh arm, causing her to involuntarily close her eyes and snuggle against his steadfast frame. Bucky nuzzles his nose into her braids, breathing deeply, slowly, intently. He moves his head down, and she feels the edges of his lips brush against her ear as he speaks, his soft, sleep-heavy voice forcing her to suppress a shiver.

"Morning…" he whispers.

He pauses, making her think he wants to say something else. But he doesn't.

"Good morning," she offers sweetly, hugging him close. He isn't moving to get up yet, so she won't.

They linger in intimate silence, their hearts beating against each other's chests, as Bucky continues to inhale his fill of her. Shuri, eyes still closed, feels his warm lips brushing along her ear just a little more. One chaste, feather-light touch here, or there, ghosting down to her neck. Enough to make her shiver again, but not enough to count as real. Then he pulls back, frowning slightly, his chest having stopped moving against her.

_Say something, you're not ready to get up. Not yet. Just a few minutes longer._

"Are you ready for your first session tonight?"

He still holds her to him, but his frown deepens. His focus changes for a moment as he hesitates, and then asks: "Will you be there?"

"I will be." Shuri smiles, daring to nuzzle her nose into the deep cleft of his chin. He doesn't seem to mind. In fact, he reacts by gently rubbing a circle into the small of her back with his vibranium thumb. Just once. Enough so she can feel it, not enough to satisfy her.

_Oh no._

"Will you tell me about it? What I need to expect?"

His soft voice lulls her out of her descent into insecurity. Makes her want to stay consumed by his massive frame and soothing, pulsing body heat forever.

Shuri forces herself to clear her head and focus on something she's always confident talking about - her work - rising slightly out of his arms to prop herself up on her elbow. He loosens his hold on her (only a little) so she can adjust, watching at her attentively the way he did in her lab that first morning. It feels like so long ago, now. Shuri surges ahead, wanting above all to make _progress_. In whatever form that might take.

"Ok, not that I'm any sort of religious zealot or anything, but I believe I've found a way to deprogram you through an ancient Wakandan ritual." She doesn't like how that sounds alone, so she adds: "Well, it's sort of a combo. First - you know that sedative I gave you when you arrived?"

He nods, his entire focus hers. "Mm-hm. Purple. Knocked me out cold. Didn't think anything could, 'cept maybe Steve."

"Of course it did, I designed it." She beams at his joke, but can't help reminding him proudly that she has one up on Captain America.

He rewards her with a slow smile that makes her heart flutter. Makes her want to kiss those lips…

_Focus, Shuri. His treatment._ _ **Your job.**_ _Your whole purpose with him._

"Anyway, it has other properties. Ones I've tried myself recently, so I know how they work. It's made from an herb that is sacred to my people.

"It brings the drinker so close to death that they have visions. The strongest version of it is forbidden to outsiders, but I've synthesized a safer version that's perfect for you."

Bucky frowns again, going somewhere in his mind. He doesn't speak for a minute, and Shuri hopes she doesn't sound like a novice. "What kind of visions?"

"Our ancestors," she plays with his hair absentmindedly, thinking of her vision of him. "Our destiny. Answers to our deepest troubles. Whatever we need to see."

She goes on to explain to a rapt audience of one that she believes by helping him spiritually, using the ancient ways of her people, it will be easier to find and undo the triggers hidden so deeply inside his subconscious. He must give faith to their rituals, become one of them in spirit, basically.

That and actual, practical treatment that Shuri has been scouring Wakanda for.

"Afterwards, we'll get you a _real_ therapist, to help you deal with any P.T.S.D., or whatever else you need. The best in the country, one of our own. Someone you can trust, I promise."

When she's done, he's gazing off through the window, thinking. His vibranium thumb resumes making circles on her back, heating her skin through her pajamas, the motion more pensive now.

After a long moment in which the waking sunlight steadily creeps up on the room, Bucky sighs.

His eyes drop to her lips, then her collarbone. "What if…"

He purses his lips, locking his jaw. Whatever it is, he's having trouble getting it out. Shuri hugs him tighter, encouraging him to trust her. Or at the very least, trust in this moment between them. He can call her a friend, if nothing else. Maybe he only saw a needy princess last night, but she desperately wants him to see her as a guide and a confidant in the light of this very monumental day. It's important to have trust, for both of them.

Bucky swallows and pushes the words out, "What if I can be triggered while I'm out? I don't wanna hurt anybody. I _don't_ wanna hurt _you_."

He's practically glaring at the window now, holding her just a little tighter, his vibranium arm flexing across her waist again. He finally darts his eyes toward hers, giving her a chance to stop his anxious spiraling before it gets started.

"Shh, no, no, no, none of that. You _cannot_ be triggered this way, trust me." He relaxes just a bit, the ocean waves of his breathing settling down again. "These will be many sessions, one at a time, until the last trigger is gone. You'll be in one of the most serene and healing areas of our kingdom.

"These are practices that my ancestors have performed for thousands of years. Myself and the Queen Mother will be there as well as our _very_ wise and experienced elders. And…"

Noticing his still deeply furrowed brow, Shuri boldly reaches up to hold his face, lacing her delicate fingers into his thick, wavy hair. She feels that flutter of insecurity mingled with deep affection pass through her again as both his flesh and vibranium fingertips draw little circles into her sides, but he is listening.

He does take her seriously. In fact he is actively looking to her to help ground him here in positivity and light. She embraces her role.

"It won't be easy, but I trust that you will find your way back to yourself, Bucky. I trust you because I can see that you are a _good man_. You are _more_ than what they made you believe. Those words are _not_ going to control your life forever."

He sighs hard, the weight of him bouncing into the plush bedding, rocking her closer to him. His jaw is clenched tightly and he's still frowning but she can tell he believes her.

"Do you trust me?"

Bucky nods.

"Good." She can't help caressing his wavy strands a bit, wanting to soothe him. "This _will_ work."

He nods again, closing his eyes, and burrows his face into the crook of her neck. Shuri's heart soars and she wraps her arms around him. She strokes his hair, savors how big he is, how he seems to swallow her up whole with his sheer size alone.

The sun is almost up, the pale blues and pinks of the early dawn fading into bright orange.

Just to have something to talk about, to linger here with him for as many seconds as she can draw out, she starts to mumble sleepily into his shoulder.

"Oh, speaking of the elders...I have some groveling to do today. The healing pools are actually forbidden to outsiders, too. I'm not really their favorite person - I make fun of tradition here a lot - but I think…" She can feel him smiling and it makes her smile, too. Right before a huge yawn escapes her, causing her petite frame to push into the muscled wall of his. He doesn't move to dislodge himself from her. She can't suppress a shiver this time. "Mmm, they'll be so impressed by my groveling and change of heart, they'll make an exception once I plead my case. Really, _T'Challa's_ case when you think about it..."

Bucky is silent, breathing, listening. She wonders if he's asleep. She hopes. She wants to stay here and float in his comforting orbit some more. She wants to stay...maybe she can rearrange some things in her schedule, give them just one extra hour...

Her eyes pop open and she shudders with a start. Her schedule. "'Mama! I totally forgot!"

She promised to have breakfast with 'Mama this morning. Penance for skipping dinner at home.

"Shit, Bucky, I have to go!"

Bucky lets her go, getting up with her as she hastily grabs his kimoyo wrist and brings it together with hers so they will sync.

"Now all you have to do is say my name, and then speak. It'll send a little voice message to me, Clumsy Fingers."

Bucky's lips twitch into an amused smirk as he watches her shake out her hair and her pajamas and scurry across the room to the window. He follows, already right there behind her when she turns around to say goodbye for now. For a second - just an intake of breath, really - she wants to kiss him. She wants to wrap her arms around him again, lean all the way into his massive frame, nuzzle her nose in his cleft, then kiss those pretty, heart-shaped lips of his. Nice and long and hard.

And he is looking at her lips, too. She speaks without thinking, just to avoid giving herself away.

"One more thing, I forgot."

Bucky lifts his chin, paying attention, though his gaze is still so, _so_ gentle.

"You need an anchor. Some personal totem to remind you of your true self. In case these unused emotions or memories become too much before you can wake. It's for your comfort."

He blinks, shifting his gaze down, and finally lets her hear his soft voice again. "I don't really have anything like that, princess."

"Oh…" Shuri feels horrible. Of course. The Fist of HYDRA wouldn't have any possessions. He only ever needed what they provided him to carry out a mission. She struggles for a way to correct her mistake, but her mind goes blank.

"Just you." His eyes are on her again, crystalized from the new sunlight in the ever-brightening sky behind her. " _Can_ it be you? Do they allow that sorta thing?"

"Are you sure?"

"Only other person I can think of is Steve, and he's in the wind right now, so…" he shrugs. "Besides, you shouldn't hafta be out there begging your elders to let _two_ total strangers in on something so sacred to your people. I trust you. If you're willing to."

"Of course, Ingcuka." She reaches out, touches his face. His eyes close and he nuzzles his lips against her hand, his new stubble tickling her. The lightest touch. Not a kiss, just a gesture. She has to go before someone catches her out of her room. "See you later. Don't worry!"

And she slips away from his warmth out into the chilly, dewey gardens, hurrying and hiding until she's finally back in her own rooms. Shuri slips inside, collapses on her bed, and curses herself.

She has feelings - deep, surprising, terribly inconvenient feelings - for a man she barely knows.

A man who makes her feel like a lovesick teenager, but also precious, valuable, warm and cheery like a bonfire in the middle of winter. A man she has had dreams of since the moment he entered her life. A man who quiets her mind the instant she's in his arms.

...a broken shell of a man. A formerly brainwashed and likely traumatized man.

...a white man, from America, who came of age in _the thirties_ no less.

...an assassin. Responsible for countless murders and acts of terrorism for over fifty years.

... _over fifty years,_ trained to do one thing above all others. Comply.

_Ohhhh no. Shuri, what are you_ _**doing** _ _?_

Suddenly, Shuri's overactive mind goes into overdrive, and she is second-guessing every choice she's made. She isn't a real therapist, and she hasn't really ever been all that invested in Wakandan rituals. She's just basing this all on theory. She is brilliant, but could she truly be in over her head? Bucky is an assassin, not a wolf cub. Shuri's anxiety kicks into high gear as she lays on her bed staring daggers into the ceiling. What if this _doesn't_ work and she ends up damaging him even further and _wasting everyone's time?_

Just as quickly as she realizes her feelings - her infatuation - for Bucky, she also becomes terrified that this means she is no savior at all. Just an overachieving girl with a crush.

Maybe that's what Umama was trying to tell her yesterday. Trying to get her to wake up and see that she may be a genius, but she is no superhero. Not even Captain America could truly save Bucky. Yet she thought _she_ could?

Because she adores the look in his eyes? Loves that he's so gentle with her? Because she craves the real version of some dream she had, some vision she saw and hasn't even told anyone about?

Shuri feels sick. Or hungry. Umama is waiting, hopefully with tea to settle her stomach and help her think. If only Baba was here. She misses being able to look into his eyes and find herself there, find her confidence, her clarity. She was so busy pushing a man she barely knows to find an anchor for himself, she didn't even stop to consider that hers is gone and in need of replacement, too.

_Do you think, in reality, Bibi, it is your father you won't be able to let rest if you cannot fix this man? This Ingcuka?_

_**No,**_ she answers her mother's question from weeks ago. She _can't_ believe that. She just can't.

T'Challa put his trust in her for a reason. Umama gave her that tea for _a reason_. It helped Baba. He was a man of both unrivaled faith _and_ intellect. He wasn't perfect. He made monumental mistakes she cannot change, but he always steered her straight when he was here. There is truth, and beauty, and love in their ancestral beliefs.

Even when they thought they'd lost everything - Baba, T'Challa, Wakanda, their very way of life - the _ancestors_ restored them.

_There is nothing certain in this world, child. Keep to your path. Bast will guide you._

Even Okoye, after all she's lost, believes in Bast's will.

Shuri decides once and for all to stop letting herself spiral into an endless loop of second guessing and self-doubt. There is no time for that. She had a vision, her ancestor showed her her destiny, and _she believes_.

She and Ingcuka were meant to be at each other's side for a lifetime. That can only be a good thing. Shuri remembers with peaceful gratitude, her Baba always told her ' _nothing good comes easy, ilanga'._

_And this is how it starts, isn't it?_ She calls out futilely to Bashenga in her mind.

There is no answer, of course.

Just the sound of her own heartbeat, fluttering and fast. Smitten.

* * *

Shuri is very late for breakfast, but she will just plead with her mother for her honest advice again, and hopefully she'll be forgiven.

Ramonda is the kind of mother with endless patience, preferring to play the long waiting game and let her children reach the conclusions that will align with her hopes for them. She is good at letting her daughter be, all the while projecting her will across miles, if she has to. Or sending messengers like T'Challa and Okoye without bothering to use kimoyo beads to summon her daughter. Nothing like that has happened, so she must not be in trouble, Shuri prays.

What she doesn't expect is to find that her mother is not waiting for her. Maybe she's just taking breakfast in the garden? Shuri opens her mother's large windows and steps outside, looking around for her in the usual spots. No 'Mama.

" _Where_ is the Queen Mother?" She chirps at the guard around the corner from her mother's master bedroom, her heart racing as dread descends inside her throat. Shuri thinks she knows as the guard checks with someone through his kimoyo link, taking too long to answer her.

"The Queen Mother is meeting with the asylum seeker, the Barnes man, my princess."

_**This**_ _can't be good,_ Shuri's mind beats on a drum with alarm as she nods numbly and turns on shaky legs to go back to her own room. She hopes that Bucky won't rat her out; tell the Queen Mother that her needy daughter has been sneaking into his room at night to have him cradle her to sleep. No, he wouldn't. Not without getting himself in trouble, too. Well, then she hopes her mother won't be able to puzzle him out, either. That is a flimsy hope, indeed.

The very real prospect that working with Bucky will be taken away from her sinks fast and heavy in Shuri's belly like a large stone in a river as she closes her doors behind her.

* * *

Bucky stands in the window watching the sun rise, thinking about Shuri.

He is used to following orders, but there are no orders to tell him what do with the fact that he is now certain he wants to wake up with her in his arms again.

There's some part of him that remembers what it felt like to make a pretty girl melt in his arms, but Shuri isn't just any pretty girl. She's like a shining jewel. He could listen to her sweet, musical voice for hours. Even just making her laugh, the way her mocha eyes sparkle... _the way she shivers against him with a brush of his lips or just a little squeeze inside his arms_...he wants to make those things happen again, and more. He wants to whisper ' _mornin', Sunshine',_ watch her smile, and _kiss her_.

He wants to hold her tightly until she shivers and _really_ kiss her... _kiss her breath away._

Bucky feels warm all over, but it isn't the Wakandan sunlight.

This is dangerous.

He misses her already. He only wants to be near her when she's around. Protect her, because he's experienced (and participated in) _every_ kind of dark, evil shit there is out there in the world and she is only just beginning to, he can tell. He wants to take every opportunity he can to show her even half the tremendous kindness she's shown him. Stay inside her sweet, warm, welcoming light.

And it's dangerous.

He's seeking asylum in a country that hasn't opened its borders since its inception and he's sneaking the youngest member of their royalty into his bed at night _to cuddle_. That's not all he can have of her, either. He _wants more, and he knows he can have it_ and he's terrified he won't stop seeking more until he has it all.

He _has_ to stop.

_Steve gave up everything to get you here._

_T'Challa is risking his entire kingdom to protect and accept you._

_Sunshine..._ _ **Princess**_ _**Shuri**_ _...doesn't deserve to get caught up in your poison. She doesn't know what you're capable of. She only knows what you show her. She just wants to help. Let her help, and leave her alone._

Bucky takes a deep breath and finally moves away from the window, trying like hell to make up his mind. His mind... _that's the problem,_ he thinks as he makes up the bed.

The princess is kind to believe in him so much, but the truth is that for Bucky, while the triggers are still inside his mind it can't be trusted. Maybe even if all it wants to show him are all the things about the princess he is now going to have to pretend he doesn't adore.

But it's the best thing for everybody, especially for his chances of survival here.

He's about to roll up his palette and get dressed to go and join the Dora Milaje for another day of training when he realizes that he can smell Sunshine all over him. She's in his t-shirt, even in his hair a little. _Damn._ Once this fades, that's it. He's already decided, he can't go back in for more. _Even if she shows. Even if she begs._ The prospect of her begging makes his breath hitch, but he bats the thought away _hard_ before it can sink its teeth into him. No. She doesn't belong to him. She isn't a safety blanket he can pull out of a closet whenever he gets lonely.

Bucky pauses for a long moment, breathing. Accepting, as he always eventually has to, that the things that make him happy - make him _feel_ anything other than empty - never, _ever_ last.

A knock arrives on his bedroom door this time, and from the sound of it, it isn't breakfast.

This is the tentative, refined summons of royalty.

Maybe it's the king, coming back to check on his progress after all this time.

Either way, Bucky puts steel in his veins and tries to ignore Shuri's scent all over him as he walks across the bedroom to answer the door.

He is definitely surprised by the lovely (though pensive) face of the Queen Mother, her long white locs splayed across her shoulder like a fur shrug.

"Sergeant. I apologize for disturbing you so early, but I was hoping I might have a word before you have your breakfast?"

Bucky knows he's gone white as the sheets he was just holding Shuri in.

He is good at controlling his facial expressions, however. Good at walling himself off from others. He has no desire to behave rudely to the Queen Mother, but he can't let her know just how much Shuri is on his mind. This seals the deal, though. He has to stop. He has someone to lie to, now, and that isn't a good feeling.

"Not disturbing me at all, your majesty." He steps aside to let her pass, and two guards follow, stationing themselves on the other side of a chaise lounge Bucky almost forgot was in the room.

He closes the door behind him, refusing to even glance toward the bed, and walks into the lounge space between the bedchamber and the fireplace. She watches him closely, but serenely. She's obviously skilled at using a poker face while assessing someone. He keeps eye contact, but says nothing.

Ramonda sighs. "This is very unusual, Sergeant, I hope you'll forgive me." Her elegant shoulders rise and fall and her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes. "It seems I have no choice but to involve you. My daughter is not in her room this morning, and I can only come to one conclusion."

His heart feels for all the world as if it's going to punch its way out of his chest.

He frowns, trying to think of a response. "Do you need me?" _Idiot. What the hell was that?_

The Queen Mother closes her eyes briefly, her smile a bit more genuine. "In a sense, I suppose. She thinks I'm unaware, but Shuri has been sleeping in her lab many nights since her Baba died. And I know she found a way to return to her work last night."

There's a lot she's not saying. He listens.

"During any other time, and when her Baba was alive, it could be work involving anything under the sun - she is that curious and _that_ brilliant."

Bucky nods in agreement, hanging on her every word. Being a captivating orator seems to run in the family, too.

"But her father is not alive anymore, and now, instead of the humanitarian work they had together, something I truly believe they were bonding over...she has you."

The observant woman examines him a bit more, and all Bucky can do is let her. Perhaps she can see - even feel - the concern emanating from him, but she says nothing for a long moment.

"I've decided to let her be, for now, but you see, Sergeant…" she sighs, clasping her hands together and glancing down at them in the smallest show of uncertainty.

"Bucky, ma'am. Please."

"Bucky," she tries out the name, raising her brows pleasantly. She gestures to the armchair across from her. "Sit."

He obeys.

"Nothing I've tried has gotten through to her, only made her more determined to help you." She raises a hand, pausing to smile warmly at him. "And I am nothing but certain she _can_ help you, as is T'Challa. As her father would be, if he were here.

"But he is not, and without him she will work every day, _every night_ , to solve a very complex puzzle, neglecting her own wellbeing until she's too drained to go on. Not stopping to _breathe_ , to _enjoy_ her life, to understand how incredibly precious it is."

She blinks back tears, lowering her face again to preserve herself in the company of a stranger.

And that is exactly what Bucky feels like. A dangerous stranger intruding on this family's peace. Selfishly coveting what isn't his to have, to surreptitiously taste in the middle of the night like a prize he stole out of the royal cookie jar.

He can't think of a single thing to say. In lieu of that, he gets up, takes a tissue from an ornate box on the mantle of the fireplace, and politely hands it to her. She accepts with a gracious smile and dabs at her eyes while he eases down into the armchair again.

"So you see," she laughs softly at herself. The guards on either side of her dutifully observe, saying nothing as she takes a deep breath and continues. "This is all very unusual. It happens to be you, and I do hope she succeeds. I've done my research as well. I know before all of this happened to you, you _served_ your country. You were a _friend_ to Captain America."

Bucky nods, feeling the need to open up to her, seeing as how she has just shown him her worry and motherly tears. "Yes, ma'am. Even when I have nothin'...I have Steve."

She smiles wistfully. "Yes, I understand. We, all of us, felt the same way about my husband, T'Chaka. Especially Shuri. You must know, then, how much my children mean to me.

"...and you must know that as long as you are here in the palace, Shuri will continue to feel some urgent sense that she must be making progress with you every hour of every day and night."

Bucky frowns, his heart giving him one good warning thump. _She knows._

"She's quite taken with you, Bucky." The Queen Mother tilts her head, her smile remaining, the look of an adult silently communicating with another she assumes has at least a comparable amount of experience out in the real world, with all manner of friends and enemies. "You must have noticed."

"I noticed. She is...passionate." He doesn't think there is any blood left in his face.

"Yes, and when you're the object of that passion, there is no question you will receive the best care, attention to detail, and utmost creativity. The ingenuity in that girl is...oh!" She takes a deep, reverent breath. "My Shuri's passion is her _light_ , her _fuel_. Without her father to ground her, I'm afraid she'll burn herself out before she learns to plant her feet on the solid Earth and _hold fast._ "

Bucky sits and contemplates what she's saying, the looming, obvious conclusion befalling him like the shade of an eclipse. Swallowing, he nods his understanding.

"I've been, uh, training with the Dora Milaje." He decides to open up a little more. Show her he's human.

"Oh?" She raises her eyebrows, genuine curiosity twinkling in her eyes. "How have you found that? They are our kingdom's best warriors."

"Oh yes ma'am, they certainly are. It's been really nice, so far. They let me hang around all day, occupy myself." Bucky has to clear his throat and press on, get to the point. "Anyway, one of them, N'Yuna?" She nods that she knows one of Okoye's most seasoned Dora. "She told me about the villages in the Riverlands. Said they're beautiful. I've been thinking...I shouldn't wear my welcome out here, and I'm sure the king will summon me when he's ready."

"Yes, of course," she reassures him, but he can tell she's cottoning on to where he's going with this.

He begins to hope he can redeem himself for what she may or may not suspect, change course, keep his asylum here and keep Shuri happy. At the same time, give her worried mother some relief.

"She says I could ask her grandfather, the chief there, for a place to stay in Yeda. Maybe I can also find some work. I can ask her if that's still okay today."

"I've known N'Yasa since we were children. 'Yuna is right. The Riverlands _are_ very beautiful, and peaceful." She looks intrigued, impressed, and relieved. "I will speak with him, myself. Tell him to expect you. You have a great many skills, I have heard. I imagine it will not be too hard to find you work there, either. Yeda's people make up a good, warm community. Very close, but very welcoming. They will make you feel you belong, especially with mine and 'Yuna's word."

The Queen Mother rises from her seat, her guards coming to life and tracking her every move as she makes her way over to him. He rises as well, standing very still and allowing her to take his hands. She examines his vibranium fingers, shaking her head in awe.

"Shuri created this for you?"

"Yes ma'am. Your daughter is pretty amazing." He wants to tell her that he would never bring her daughter any harm. That he's pretty sure he'd kill anyone who tried. That his sun rises and sets with her. But he can't do that. Instead, he asks: "Will she still be able to…?"

Guiltily, he can't bring himself to mention Shuri being his anchor. Luckily, she makes her own assumption about what he's referring to.

"Yes, and I'll be there with her to support you." It's her turn to hesitate. "Let me explain to Shuri that you'll be leaving us? She has _so_ _much_ still to prepare for your session with the elders tonight."

Bucky nods respectfully, not showing how that worries him. Shuri will think he's ignoring her again, but he doesn't see how he has any other choice right now.

The Queen Mother seems to sense his chagrin. "And do not worry. You are in good hands, Ingcuka."

_She knows_ , is all he can think. Or at the very least, she knows how much he cares.

She may be used to people - of various intentions, from the purest to the darkest - becoming enraptured by her daughter's light. This time, because she sees how integral Shuri is to her son's decision to protect Bucky in Wakanda, and because he has volunteered to remove himself from their close proximity to put Shuri's wellbeing before his, it seems she's willing to trust him.

That makes Steve, T'Challa, Ross, and the Queen Mother. And, he suspects, she knows that, too.

It's not ten little words implanted by HYDRA, but it feels a hell of a lot more persuasive.

She lets him go, her guards following her to the door and walking ahead of her to protect her as she crosses the threshold.

When she turns again to face him, he can smell breakfast making its way down the hall. "It will take some effort to entice the elders on the council to grant Shuri access to the healing pools, but I will vouch for you. I believe you'll only benefit from our guidance, and by extension, so will Wakanda."

That's as much an order as it is an expression of faith. He really likes this family, and he's determined not to let her or T'Challa down. He thanks her quietly.

She smiles appraisingly, maybe even appreciatively.

His breakfast arrives just as she's leaving, giving him a welcome distraction from his intense, spiraling thoughts. He hurries and eats, shaves, showers, dresses, and heads out to meet the Dora glider on the far side of the palace before he misses his ride.

On the way, however, that old chorus of dark thoughts is starting to get louder.

He has to give this up, whatever this is between them. He has to be away from her.

T'Challa is damned right. This is not going to be easy, not by a mile.

_But since when has anything_ _ **you**_ _want ever come easy...or come at all?_

If he wants his freedom, Wakanda's protection, his mind and his soul back, he's going to have to give up the one thing he's found besides Steve that makes him feel the most like his true self.

His anchor. His light. His Sunshine.


	9. Did You Ever See A Dream Walkin'?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shuri and Bucky go through the first therapy session, a vision ceremony in the sacred healing pools presided over by the elders. Though they initially believe they must give up on their rapidly growing feels for one another in order to stay focused on helping Bucky, they find their connection is stronger than ever when they give in to fate.

Shuri sits in the passenger seat in the Royal Talon, clutching her gift for Bucky in her lap.

It has been quite a day already, and the hardest part hasn't even started yet.

Her mother has gone ahead to prepare Bucky before the elders receive him.

Umama was oddly nonchalant about her missing breakfast and her little talk with Bucky this morning. She would only volunteer that she had to be sure he was worth disturbing the carefully, reverently maintained solitude and peace of the elders.

"He seems a dutiful man, Shuri. _Responsible_. He will be fine."

This, and the fact that her mother accompanied her to see the elders and plead her case, should make Shuri feel nothing but relief. But it hasn't. Especially since Bucky went silent again today. Admittedly, she was so engrossed and affected by her trip to see the elders, plus making the final preparations for his session, she didn't let herself notice until this very moment.

She sits in silence as the Talon makes its way toward the deep forest surrounding Visions Lake with its sacred healing pools, clutching the encased dog tags she's had replicated from Bucky's time as a Howling Commando.

His new anchor. She doesn't think it's possible for it to be her, now. A day can change many things, it seems.

The elders are three nearly ancient, blind ones. They've been here in Wakanda for a long time. It's rumored that only Baba and Zuri have seen them since the king before him. If not her lab, if they could have moved T'Challa from the Jabari ice, they would have brought him here. To where the elders dwell, in a mighty kraal at the edge of the lake, surrounded by the healing pools, rendered so by the wisdom and magic they wield from being exposed to vibranium in its most ancient form for so long.

Koinet, Kokan and Saiton.

Thankfully, N'Jadaka never learned of this place. Shuri doesn't want to think about him burning this, too.

Perhaps Shuri distanced herself from, scoffed at, and pronounced her discomfort with their ways so much because of how intimidating the very lore of them could be. Fierce warriors and conjurers in their own right, it is a proud, mighty legacy. They do not trust outsiders easily, but they heard her speak today, thank Bast. As T'Chaka's daughter, T'Challa's sister. Even militant as she can seem in her towering lab so far away, Shuri was immediately humbled in their presence.

"The child has something weighing on her heart," said their Leader, Saiton.

"She has seen…" said the Tall One, Koinet.

"Let her speak, Queen Mother, without fear," said the wise and Manly, Kokan, nodding without seeing for Ramonda to leave them.

Her 'Mama had reluctantly embraced Shuri and left the kraal, looking back just once. Then Shuri, sensing that they would hear absolutely nothing else, confessed to them that she'd seen a vision after drinking a version of the Heart Shaped Herb in tea form. In that vision, she didn't see her father as she'd hoped. She saw herself and the White Wolf, Ingcuka, the outsider, running and fighting together for a lifetime, bonded together in all things. She confessed that it isn't the science, it isn't T'Challa's trust, it isn't even the fact that this man saved her life...it's the vision, and the _faith_ she feels when she thinks of what Bashenga told her, that compels her to help Bucky now.

They didn't say much. Simply agreed, they see the truth as well. That was it. They agreed to see him tonight, and observe her theory in action, no more.

It's something. It's _everything_ , all of a sudden, especially since her mother casually dropped a little bomb on her parade on the way back to the palace to prepare.

About how Bucky is getting along so well with the Dora. And how he's even going to go and live in N'Yuna's family's village. Starting tomorrow. It's all already arranged, her mother says warmly as if it's something to celebrate.

It is - it _should_ be. Bucky needs it, to feel he belongs, to begin to build serenity, loyalty to Wakanda, and peace of mind on his own terms. But _just_ for Shuri, deep down inside hiding where she hasn't bothered to look, it's a punch in the gut.

The Riverlands, especially that particular village, are far away from the palace.

She will still see him for sessions, her mother grants mercifully, meaning so well and yet somehow doing so much damage. But those will be a few weeks apart, Shuri already knows, simply because of the nature of her work outside of his therapy as well as sessions with a psychologist. Not to metion her brother coming home soon to get back to the business of running his kingdom. That will likely include requiring Bucky to serve in some capacity.

It's all good for him. It's becoming part of his own tribe.

But it will keep him occupied. Away from her.

It means no sleep. No deep, soulful, wordless understanding.

 _You already knew he couldn't stay in the palace forever, genius,_ she chastises herself all afternoon.

_Can't he move closer, to Central Wakanda instead? No, too many people, too much stimulus. He needs_ _**rest.** _

Shuri has gone days without feeling the way she felt just after Baba's death, but now she feels the paralyzing anxiety begin to gather in the shadows of her mind, laying in wait.

"My princess, we have arrived." Her pilot informs her respectfully, bringing her back to the present. They land near the kraal just as the sun slips past the net of trees surrounding them.

Shuri gathers herself in her ceremonial garb. This time she ditched a corset in favor of something light and flowing, something she can maneuver comfortably in water.

The princess follows her guards out of the Talon. She looks down at the mirrored box she's cradling that holds the improved tea and Bucky's dog tags. She hopes he'll appreciate them, and understand why she's changed her mind.

Her mother is being very pointed and yet very supportive. Shuri knows when a decision has been made for her. They don't want her to see him, and she suspects - though her mother won't say - it's because they can all see how much focus he draws from her. How much she cares. Too much for them, it seems. They think she's still grieving, that she'll spiral into overworking herself again.

She is watched and worried about constantly, now. That is her reality as much as she'd love to deny or escape it. Even if Bucky could stay, she wouldn't be able to keep him to herself for long.

Shuri catches her own reflection in the mirrored box while the last of the day's sunlight fades away.

She has her braids half up in a sweeping bun, adorned in white beads to match her cream colored, flowing jumpsuit and shoulder wrap. She doesn't look as disappointed as she feels. She has to be positive, and strong, for Bucky. Tonight isn't about her, or what she wants. It's about restoring this man's identity. It's about doing her job.

She knows she's in for a long, hard few nights of withdrawal, but she clings to her faith, of all things, as she approaches the kraal.

Her mother meets her in the spacious, curved doorway. She takes Shuri's hands that are wrapped around the box. "He's ready," she says softly. "And so are you. I know the elders would not have granted you their blessing tonight if they didn't see something in him worth saving, and in you worth _following_ , Shuri. Remember that, my darling ilanga."

Ramonda squeezes her shoulders supportively and goes to join the elders in wait by the banks of the north healing pool.

Shuri can see him sitting inside the large, dome-like enclosure of earth-colored stone, near the fire pit in the center. He's shirtless, his hair partially pulled back from his face, but still flowing across his shoulders. His back is to her, and he's being prepped by the late Zuri's top apprentice, One.

One finishes painting white symbols onto the stripes of grayish-purple, clay-like markings on his skin, the last one across his shoulder blades meaning White Wolf. She steps back, gathering her purple robes, and leaves him without a word, headed toward Shuri. "The tea, princess," she holds out her hand. Shuri opens the box and hands One the tea. One nods with approval at Shuri's ceremonial garb. "Your father would be proud, child. So would Zuri. Come, when you are ready."

She leaves them both to go and brew the tea and wait to start the session. There are three silent guards posted around the room. They cross their arms in Wakandan pride and bow their heads dutifully. Aside from the crackling of the fire, there's no other noise.

Shuri looks down at the box for as long as she dares until she sees his pale form in the mirror, rising from his sitting position to turn toward her.

She looks up at him, and is struck by the look in his winter blue eyes.

 _I'm sorry,_ they plead with her, and that's all she needs.

She's drawn to him like a moth to a flame, crossing over to him in a few quick, soundless strides.

The guards stand at attention, but say nothing as she comes as close to him as she dares. There is only the width of the box worth of space between them by the time she thinks to stop. The guards are now actively watching, but neither Shuri nor Bucky can seem to help leaning ever closer to each other, inch by infinitesimal inch, anyway.

Their eyes lock in place and he slips his hands upward to hold on to her elbows in as discreetly a fashion as possible. He begins to speak, his large eyes swimming with the light of the flickering orange fire. His voice just above a whisper, barely audible over the crackle of the burning wood in the simmering pit. Shuri listens like her life depends on it.

"I don't wanna leave you, princess, but we both know I have to," he whispers gravely, cooling her glowing skin in the heated kraal space. "Your mother came to me. She's really worried about you."

Shuri's breath hitches in her lungs as she gazes up at him. He's pleading with her and yet letting her down gently. Eyes are watching them and there's a ceremony to perform, but she listens. He squeezes the base of her elbows, his hot skin and firm grip causing her to lean steadily into him, wanting desperately for him to hold her.

He rubs gentle circles into her skin through the fabric of her wrap, reminding her of how close and connected they were this morning.

"I still trust you. _I still want you_..." he stops himself, clutching at her, inhaling deeply, holding himself back, as is she. He starts again, "I still want you to treat me, but it's gotta be under their conditions. This is your ancestry, _your_ kingdom, and I have to respect that." Boldly, he leans down, pressing his forehead gently to hers. When he speaks next, she can hear the same insecurity she's grappling with in his low, soft voice. "You still with me, Sunshine?"

He speaks so gently, his words arousing something in Shuri that gives her the strength to nod and accept what everyone is telling her. Nothing good comes easy.

 _He called her Sunshine_. It only reaffirms her faith that this is the way it's meant to be. They'll find a way to be together. _She'll_ find a way.

"Yes, I'm still with you," she whispers back, lifting her head to refocus and gain just a little space from his overwhelming presence. "I understand, and I agree. That's why I…" she holds the mirrored box out to him, "I brought you this."

Bucky's fingers caress hers discreetly as he takes the box from her and examines it quietly. She watches him open it. When he sees what's inside, his chest caves in with emotion, the grayish-purple markings on his pale skin appearing almost prismatic under the firelight.

Shuri reaches in and pulls out the replicated dog tags, holding them up above them. He bows his head, and she slips the chain around his neck. The tags settle in the middle of his massive chest, and Shuri cannot stop herself from gently resting her fingertips against his smooth, pale skin.

"Your true anchor, Bucky. To remind you of who you were before you ever came to me. I can't be selfish. I want you to come back to _yourself_. This is the way."

Bucky breathes deeply, and boldly leans in again, closing the space between them, save the box, to kiss her forehead tenderly. The gentle pressure of his heated lips makes her shiver. Shuri looks up at him as they sway there for a moment, holding the box (really each other's hands) together. He peels his lips reluctantly from her skin to meet her gaze, and they linger there in each other's eyes. That connection they've both felt since the moment they met roars inside them both, the heat of their feelings rivaling the fire steadily warming this kraal.

The guards tap their spears loudly, and Shuri steps back from him. She holds herself up to her full height, though Bucky still somewhat dwarfs her.

"Ready, Ingcuka?"

Bucky offers her a soft smile and nods. "Ready."

"Come."

She takes the box and places it on the cowhide near the fire pit, then turns dutifully, her chin held high, to lead him out of the kraal.

Bucky follows close behind her and she can feel his eyes on her as they walk through the shroud of trees under the winking moonlight. Shuri looks up to observe the beautiful, clear sky above them. The stars blanket the inky black veil hiding the universe, twinkling as if to a drum beat, rooting for her and this unnameable connection she feels to Bucky Barnes.

The Queen Mother, the council members from the River and Merchant Tribes, the priestess One, and the three blind elders await them.

" _Praise the ancestors,"_ everyone chants quietly in Xhosa, and Shuri bows her head to them, crossing her arms in the Wakanda salute of pride, repeating the sacred phrase. " _Praise the ancestors."_

She can smell the tea One has brewed, see the faint wisps of steam wafting from the black kettle on a bonfire near the gathering.

" _Let the outsider come forward_ ," the Leader, Saiton, speaks in Xhosa, which One translates, tilting her head to listen for Bucky's footsteps.

Bucky walks forward and stands next to Shuri, her mother on their right, watching with the council members. One on their left, pouring the very potent tea into a clay bowl for him to drink.

Shuri can feel his body heat, and the heat of the kettle fire, and the cool tide of the waters swaying at their feet, and her mother's watchful eyes.

" _Outsider_ ," Saiton address him again with help from One, her elderly voice somehow seems to call a strong breeze through the trees. The fire under the teapot sways as her words reach out to them. " _We do not allow strangers to witness our customs, to partake in our sacred herb. However…praise be to the ancestors, they have called to this child next to you, and it is her spirit that shall carry you through the ancestral valley._ "

She strikes her vibranium cane heavily to the ground, and the others follow her. Three big booms pierce the blanketed quiet of the lake forest. _Boom, boom, boom._

" _Name your anchor, outsider…_ " the Tall One, Koinet, charges Bucky.

Bucky swallows, glances at Shuri, and reaches his vibranium hand up to grasp his dog tags.

The elders lean toward him, unseeing, but _feeling_ , searching his aura, his spirit.

Saiton shakes her head, leaning back. She raises a thin, aged hand to Shuri, to everyone's surprise.

" _These visions are like Death, Ingcuka. You need a_ _ **strong**_ _spirit to guide you._ " She pauses, her neck craning toward him. Bucky stares at her in silent obedience, his chest rising and falling, and they all wait. " _You've already chosen the princess, Shuri. Your success depends on your truth._ "

Ramonda's eyes move from Bucky to Shuri and back again, but she says nothing to express surprise or to protest.

" _Go now, into the water…_ " the Manly, Kokan, bids them, gesturing with his vibranium cane.

Bucky stiffens, turning slightly to look down at Shuri imploringly. She sees her mother watching, but she can only give Bucky her silent acceptance. She reaches for his hand, and he takes hers, enveloping it almost whole in the strong, heated embrace of his flesh and blood palm. She feels his much stronger pulse beating against hers that flutters like butterfly wings. They interlace their fingers, and she leads him out into the water.

One follows them, holding the steaming tea aloft.

They wade out into the cool, peaceful lake up to their waists, turning to face each other as One joins them on their left. She raises the tea, praising the ancestors once again, and offers it to Bucky.

Bucky's vulnerable, winter blue eyes close to Shuri for just a moment as he drinks the tea.

She watches his throat move as he swallows it all, then licks his lips of the potent stuff. He nods at One respectfully, turning back to gaze down at Shuri.

Under the water, their hands join and he tugs her gently closer. They watch each other as One chants under her breath, praying to the ancestors to guide him to his vision.

They drift so close together that their skin is practically touching, warming the cool waters as they breathe each other's air and fall into a trance together.

Eyes watch them as One backs up, still chanting, to observe the effects of the tea unfold.

Shuri can't help staring up at him with stars in her eyes, holding his hands tightly under the water, letting him steadily pull her closer, burning up and yet cool as winter.

"Don't be afraid, Ingcuka…"

Bucky inhales her scent indulgently, his nose hovering just above hers, his lips inches from touching hers. He gazes at her with increasing drowsiness, but absolutely soul-crushing rapture.

"Not afraid with _you_ here," he whispers.

One begins to chant a word. _The first word_ , her low voice increasing in voracity.

The elders and the others look on. They begin to chant too, their voices carried toward the couple in the water on the soothing evening breeze.

Bucky leans in, slipping down into the water, his eyes closing.

Their lips brush together as he slips down further. Shuri and One catch him before his head goes under, using the buoyancy of the water to get him on his back.

The princess positions her small hands to cradle his back and chest. He floats, his eyes closed now as he slips deeper and deeper inside his first vision.

Shuri breathes a sigh of relief. She can't bring herself to look toward the bank where her mother and the councilmembers are no doubt staring at them. Instead, she raises her eyes to silently thank One and plants herself on her feet in the earth at the bottom of the lake to hold Bucky while he dreams.

"I'm right here if you need me...sleep well, Bucky."

One nods for Shuri to help them chant the first trigger word. She squeezes his hand, and begins.

" _Longing,"_ she utters in perfect Russian. Bucky jerks violently, but otherwise remains unconscious and floating. " _Longing,"_ she repeats the phrase, and One joins her. " _Longing…longing...longing."_

Bucky grits his teeth with agitation, moaning deep in his throat, his chest heaving. His movement causes the water to splash around and soak her clothes to her skin, but he doesn't stand up or attack. He remains heavily sedated, deep inside his own subconscious.

Shuri's heart aches for him as she recognizes the look on his face. Wherever he is, he's in pain.

She chants and prays to the ancestors to protect him - protect them all - while they erase the first of his deadly triggers.

* * *

 _Bucky falls from the gorgeous, comforting sight of Shuri in the water, a bright, star-lit night sky above her head, into deep, deep,_ _ **deep**_ _darkness._

" _Longing…" he hears, floating in the abyss._

_He instantly feels on edge, but nothing happens as he continues to float down, down, down._

_He finally touches down into some form of what he perceives to be reality._

_It's real, but it's...not. It can't be. It's the past._

_The dark bowels of his HYDRA prison._

_It's cold. Dark. Full of eyes watching emotionlessly from the shadows._

_He is strapped to a chair. And there is pain. So much pain._

_Bucky screams, though he cannot form words, because there is something hard and immovable stuffed inside his mouth. He bites down so his vocal cords aren't shredded by his screams._

_And there is pain..._ _ **unimaginable pain**_ _...pure agony coursing through him from his temples down to the tips of his fingers and toes. He screams. His eyes search for something to grasp onto. Anything safe._ _ **Anything**_ _that can end this horrible, endless pain._

" _Don't be afraid, Ingcuka…" a high, sweet, musical voice calls out to him. Tears spill from his eyes, blurring his vision as he desperately searches for the source, the pain driving him to bite down hard, spittle oozing from his lips, down his chin. He can feel, as the impossibly heavy, merciless electrical current assaults his body, the burning outline of the dog tags around his neck._

_This isn't real. This is a vision. His eyes land on the HYDRA colonel pacing around him as the pain racks his body fit to send him into convulsions._

_**But this isn't real.**_ _No, this is the past. It has to be. Because he remembers Sunshine._

_And he also remembers_ _**this** _ _._

_The first time they woke him from cryosleep, a few years after he 'died'._

_His overwhelming confusion and pain, as they snatched him from the frozen abyss, dragged him to this chair, strapped him down, and shocked him silly. He was an empty mess when they were done with him, and then those words began._

_The pain stops. There is just a moment of quiet. Bucky spits out the hard thing from between his teeth and forces himself to swallow the mouthful of saliva he'd exuded screaming so much._

" _Longing..." the colonel calls out in Russian, reading from the red book._

_Bucky braces himself, but again nothing happens. Not even more words. Out of nowhere, a young HYDRA soldier appears. This one is different._

_Diminutive. Black. Braids piled high atop her head. Sparkling eyes and flawless skin. He is instantly relieved to see her. Proof that this isn't real, and he is safe. It's horrific, and he hates it, but he has to be here._

_She makes eye contact with him as she whispers in the colonel's ear. The colonel nods, closing the red book._

" _His mission may change. Watch him."_

_Somehow, everyone disappears except her._

_Bucky slumps in the chair as the restraints ease, letting him go, and the thing attached to his head raises slowly into the air._

" _Sunshine?" He falls forward onto his knees like a bag of cement, his head spinning._

_No...as Bucky forces his eyesight to focus in the dim, grim lighting, he sees that this isn't Shuri. This is...a woman dressed in a simple house dress he remembers from so long ago it almost seems impossible. He remembers because he saw it every damned day when he was a kid, and they were poor as dirt, but the happiest. Because of her. She's somewhat pale, willow thin, but sturdy on her feet, shining bright in all this darkness. Her wavy brown hair falls across her wiry shoulders as she gazes down at him lovingly, her blue eyes identical to his._

_Winnifred Barnes. Winnie to her friends._

_His mother._

_Bucky feels thick, unrelenting emotion clawing its way up his throat as she opens her arms and beckons him closer for an embrace. He lunges for her, wrapping her in his flesh and cybernetic arms tightly, closing his eyes and resting his aching head on her stomach._

_He remembers his very first mission as the Soldier, the Fist, the Asset. He had blown up an embassy and killed fifty-three people._

_That night, right before they came to toss him back into the frozen void, Bucky had sat in the dark in a hotel room, silently weeping buckets of tears, longing for something..someone...that he could not remember. He knows now that it was her. Winnie. His mother, who always made him feel as if everything would be alright. Except, back then, in that dark hotel room after causing so many deaths, HYDRA had wiped her from his memory. He had no idea what was causing the giant hole to open up inside him, but open it did. Hurt like hell, maybe even worse than the torture._

_Winnie holds her son close to her, letting him weep, stroking his damp hair lovingly._

_After a long while of crying, Bucky finally takes a deep, cleansing breath and looks up at her. Her face is haloed in the only light available to them in this hellhole._

" _My sweet Bucky boy," Winnie croons, stroking his deeply cleft chin._

_She grasps him there like she used to when he was a scrappy, stubborn kid, wiggling his face against her stomach. She settles into his embrace, and Bucky feels at home, somehow. All he sees is her. All he longs for is her sweet, safe voice. He feels twenty feet smaller, ninety years younger, holding onto his mother in the midst of his worst nightmare._

" _Mama…" he croaks, his fingers digging into her thin hips desperately. "I'm...I've...Ma, I did so many awful things. I've killed_ _ **so many**_ _people."_

_And that emotion erupts again, spilling over like a volcano, forcing its way out of him as he sobs against her threadbare house dress. It smells of back home, in their meek little apartment in Brooklyn. He longs to be back there, far, far away from here, and he doesn't care how childlike he feels right now._

_Winnie strokes her boy's hair and back, letting him cry his tears. Then she begins to speak, grasping his face in her cool, wiry hands so he must look up at her._

_Tears stream from his eyes, identical to hers, as she speaks to him lovingly, with utmost confidence._

" _Shh, Bucky, listen…" she cradles his face, stroking his chin, mesmerizing him. "I know you feel lost right now. And I_ _ **know**_ _you feel the weight of every soul they forced you to take."_

_He crushes his eyes shut, more tears streaming down his cheeks into her palms, but she doesn't let go. She tugs, forcing him to open his eyes and focus on her again. Her soothing oration continues, and as she speaks, the dank iron walls of his prison fade into the worn-down but prized walls of his old home. His mother's kitchen, where she often forced him to speak on his feelings, somehow always ending up inspiring him to continue being himself without him even realizing it. He clings to that ability of hers now._ _**He remembers.** _

" _Our lord, God teaches us every soul deserves redemption. Now it's your turn to earn His redemption, son."_

_She looks up and around, turning his attention to the violet hue of their surroundings. As if a majestic, unknowable veil has carried them here to this plane of existence, just so they could have a moment together._

_There is a faint, scratchy, yet very familiar song playing on a record somewhere. Winnifred hums the echoing, haunting melody for a few moments, stroking Bucky's hair. After a few turns, he starts to remember, and as he remembers, her hums turn into singing the lyrics softly down to him._

_**Did you ever see a dream walkin'? Well, I did...** _

_**Did you ever hear a dream talkin'? Well, I did...** _

_**Did you ever see heaven right in your arms, sayin', "I love you, I do"?** _

_**Well, the dream that was walkin' and the dream that was talkin',** _

_**And that heaven in my arms was you.** _

_It was her favorite song. She sang and hummed it all the time. She had a crush on Bing Crosby._

_Right now, singing it to her Bucky boy, she sounds nostalgic, humbled. She looks down at him, holding him tight. "I know the man I raised, James. I see your father in you. I see your good, beautiful heart. Now_ _ **you**_ _must see it. Believe in it._

" _Believe in these wonderful people trying to guide you back to yourself. Back to_ _ **me**_ _, sweet boy."_

_Bucky nods obediently, holding his mother tight, trusting in her wisdom as he trusts in Sunshine's genius._

_Winnie smiles, patting his cheeks, wiping away his tears._

" _Now. Stand up, Bucky boy. Show them who their father raised."_

" _ **You**_ _raised me, Ma," Bucky corrects her, gazing up at her lovingly. Missing her something awful._

_She pauses, total adoration and appreciation befalling her wizened visage. Then she begins to fade._

_Bucky's heart thumps hard as his mother's physical presence starts to fade from his grasp, as if the wind is blowing her away. She strokes his face, accepting of her fate, and his. "Then make me proud, James."_

_And she's gone._

" _Longing, longing, longing..." someone whispers in a persistent chant before all goes quiet and dark._

_He rises from his knees and keeps going until it feels like he's floating in a lake of stars._

_But he remembers._

_He remembers working three jobs to help his mother put food on the table and keep the lights on._

_He remembers freezing in the winter and starving in the summer._

_He remembers her always smiling, always encouraging him...and...his sister...with her warmth and love._

_He remembers Steve and his mother always saying that Winnifred Barnes was God's living soul, an angel among mortal women, for how she loved and supported her community through its toughest times._

_Winnifred raised Bucky to be a good man. A man who stands up for others._

_He can be that man again, he feels as he floats in the stars._

_He doesn't have to long for it. He can seize it, run with it. Just as he did way back when he was in his twenties, itching to serve his country._

_Now his country is Wakanda. His guiding light is Sunshine. And he_ _ **will**_ _serve._

_The weightless stars tilt, and he is suddenly looking down on a beach of black sand._

_A figure rises from the sand, watching him carefully. The figure carries a spear, wears a cat-like mask._

_**Who are you, outsider?** _

_**Bucky Barnes,**_ _he answers, though he doesn't speak aloud._

_The figure watches him, the sand shifting and glimmering around him. Bucky feels compelled to, and he answers again._

_**Ingcuka. White Wolf...adopted son. Guardian.** _

_The figure nods._

_**Then keep to your path. Keep to the light. It, and Bast, will guide you.** _

_The figure taps his spear and a sonic boom rips through the sand; right through Bucky's very soul._

_The figure bows his head, crosses his arms, and disappears into the black._


	10. Until We Sleep Again...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes his vision and remembrance, along with her standing up for herself and her beliefs, to convince Shuri and Bucky that they will find a way to be together, even without being together. They prepare to go their separate ways, though they promise to keep believing. Until they can sleep in each other's arms again...

Shuri paces in her room, trying not to let her worry consume her.

By and large, the session seemed to be a success.

Bucky made noises in his unconscious state that tore her to pieces, and he wept, but he didn't wake or go on a rampage. Then he just...stopped. He remained breathing, floating, but nothing more.

The water was getting cooler and Shuri was beginning to shiver, her pruney fingers slipping and sliding against his skin. One leaned in eventually, checking his heartbeat and the flow of breathing coming out of his nostrils. "He needs rest. Time."

Shuri had to believe that was a good thing, because no one said a word else about it. They brought him out of the water, using all six of the guards and a hoverboard from the Royal Talon to haul him the rest of the way to the kraal.

The elders agreed that she could bring him again for another session. That was it.

They stayed by the lake, soaking their feet, having a private discussion with the council members. Umama was quiet, pensive, but also focused on making sure Shuri and Bucky got warm and dry before they took him back.

Shuri scanned him on the way, partly avoiding the knowing look in her 'Mama's eyes, partly unable to be patient enough to wait until they landed. He was in such a deep state of unconsciousness that he may as well be in a coma, but his vitals were otherwise fine.

She wanted to head straight to her lab, but Umama quietly suggested that they bring him back to the palace and monitor him there so he can wake in the comfort of his rooms and Shuri can change out of her still damp clothes. Her tone was soft, but her words were very pointed. Shuri hadn't even realized that she was still shivering somewhat, having allowed the blanket they'd given her to slip from her shoulders onto the floor of the Talon while she fretted over Bucky. Also without noticing, she had reached over and taken his warm flesh hand at some point.

She knew by the look in her mother's eyes that she couldn't argue. But she refused to let go.

Now, she's dry, changed, and worrying. She paces alone in her expansive room, not having been given the space to see Bucky since they got back. She tried to eat but couldn't finish anything. That was an hour ago. She can no longer find ways to occupy herself, reason with herself, or bargain with herself. She again checks her remote kimoyo link to the monitors in his room.

By all accounts, he's just sleeping. The way she slept on a much weaker dose the night she tried.

Shuri still wants to see him. Tonight, after all her fretting and believing she'd have to give him up to help him, the connection she felt to him during the session was stronger than ever. Having the elders confirm her as his anchor only makes Shuri want even more to be at his side the second he opens his eyes.

But The Queen Mother knows, and she is not having it.

Shuri feels, with every minute that ticks by, that Bucky will wake, disoriented, and need her.

_Nothing good comes easy. Don't be afraid, Shuri, just go to him._

"Keep to your path, keep to your path…" she mutters under her breath as she makes her way over to her windows. She turns out her lights and pulls back the window curtain, determined to make it across the gardens in record time tonight. She's shocked to see a guard directly in front of her windows, gazing out at the lavish garden landscape, his back to her.

This is new. _This is 'Mama._

Shuri swallows hard, puts the curtain back, and walks toward her bedroom doors.

There are guards outside her rooms, of course. They call out to her but she ignores them.

She can hear them calling each other through their kimoyo beads, but she keeps going.

When she reaches his side of the palace from the inside this time, she rounds the corner to find not only two guards posted outside his doors - but also Umama. Pacing, just like Baba used to when he could not find a satisfactory solution to a big problem.

"Shuri!" Ramonda gasps forbiddingly when she spots her daughter, more disappointed than surprised.

Shuri walks right up to her, not backing down, and takes her by the hands, pulling her away from the doors and the listening guards.

"Bast. I knew it," Ramonda closes her eyes fretfully. "I _knew_ you and he were - !"

The emotion begins to climb in her mother's voice as Shuri can see her picturing all manner of inappropriate things. Shuri squeezes her hands, interrupting her before she even starts.

"We are doing _no such thing,_ 'Mama. He is my patient and I am his anchor."

"But you are _more_ than that, ilanga, do not lie to me."

Shuri swallows down her emotion and forces herself to speak in a low, calm voice.

"'Mama when you gave me that tea, I _did_ find the clarity I needed. Only, not from Baba like we thought. Ingcuka...Bucky...is connected to me, and I to him. For a long time, possibly the rest of our lives. Even the elders could see it."

Ramonda looks for all the world as if her worst fears have just been confirmed. A far darker and more worrisome reaction than just a moment ago when she thought it might be something as simple as an inappropriate crush.

"I think you also know that, or suspected it, haven't you?" Shuri tries not to let her mother see how her passion consumes her. Her impatience to see Bucky urges her onward. "That's why you never pressed me to tell you?"

"I didn't think _that_ would be your vision. I never thought the elders would agree to this," her mother confesses wearily, "but they did. And I thought...if I could convince him to give you some space to clear your mind, you would see this is just an infatuation. Not fate, not...love."

Shuri is affected by her mother's words in a way she cannot name and didn't expect. She presses on.

"It's _not_ infatuation. I'm not sure exactly _what_ it is, but it doesn't matter right now. I agreed to help him, and that's what I'm going to do. Let me see him, 'Mama."

"Shuri…" her mother shakes her head. "It's getting late, and we still need to discuss this."

"I know, and we will, but I need to see him. He needs to know I'm here. _He's my patient._ "

Ramonda exhales harshly, letting go of Shuri's hands. The first sign of true exasperation she's shown in weeks. Shuri stands her ground. Her mother finally regains her poise, her body language telling Shuri that she is choosing to concede defeat...for now.

" _One hour._ If he wakes, I trust you'll let me know when we can escort him to Yeda tomorrow."

Shuri feels the need to argue, but doesn't. This might be all she can get. "One hour."

"And we will discuss this more when your brother returns."

Shuri's blood runs cold, dreading that T'Challa will never understand where she's coming from. He may even order her to stop treating Bucky. She tries not to let her dread show. If her mother needs allies, then she already knows she's got a good argument.

Umama watches Shuri enter Bucky's room and close the doors behind her.

When she's alone with him, she can see right away that he is still sleeping, on his back.

The holographic monitors at his bedside remain unchanged, only his steady heartbeat marches on.

She watches his chest dip and sway like an ocean tide as she approaches him, sprawled in the middle of the large bed he never sleeps in unless it's with her. Shuri slips off her sandals and crawls into the bed next to him, making herself at home in her usual spot at his side.

She snuggles into him, humming with satisfaction to feel that he is just as warm as ever, his heated skin and large body drawing her closer and closer to him until she's glued to him like a blanket.

Shuri lays against his chest and tries to shape her body to fit the curve of his vibranium arm.

She closes her eyes and listens to him breathing, listens to his heart. One hour.

She can live with one hour just being here for him and with him, and then she'll be strong and just deal with the rest of it. She'll show T'Challa and her mother that she's mature enough to handle this by _handling it_. She will not change her mind. She will not back down. She will prove, time and again if she has to, that she is _meant_ to help bring Bucky Barnes back to the land of the truly living.

 _And then_...Shuri lifts her head to let her eyes roam across his peaceful, handsome face... _once he's free, you'll take his hand and run with him toward this feeling that consumes you whenever you're near him._

She lets her eyes close, drifts away on the ocean tide of his towering chest. The quiet in the room is only disturbed by their harmonious chorus. Ilanga and Ingcuka, comforting each other by their presence alone.

She has to catch herself before she drifts off to the full embrace of sleep, warm and comfortable curled up against him, even if he can't hold her.

The princess is surprised to find that she's been laying in his arms for nearly forty minutes.

With a sigh that gives way to a deep yawn, Shuri burrows her small body against his one last time, nuzzles her nose into the cleft in his chin, then lifts herself onto her knees and scoots off the bed.

She starts missing his warmth as it fades from her with each second she's away from him.

She scans him with her specially upgraded kimoyo beads so she can continue monitoring him remotely. _Just sleeping_ , she resolves once and for all. Just sleeping very, very deeply. Shuri sets an alert to let her know the moment anything in his vitals change, especially if he wakes. He might need her at any time and she wants to be here if he does. She gets another idea, gazing down at him as the hologram disappears, stroking his hair.

With one last backward glance, Shuri finally leaves him once her time is officially up.

She is braced to find her mother waiting for her as soon as she steps outside, but she doesn't.

She informs Bucky's guards to let him sleep.

When she's back in her room, she climbs into bed, suddenly very tired. Her mind is still buzzing, but her body is weary. Being in the water holding Bucky (who is still kinda heavy even floating on his back and with the help of One), her hot bath, and all that emotional fretting today has exhausted her.

Shuri begins to feel hope as she sinks down into her admittedly luxurious, pleasantly cool bed sheets. She still can't stop thinking of Bucky, worrying about him, missing him, but she's having ideas she's excited to work on, too. A way to bring back their Heart-Shaped Herb garden from the burnt, ashen mess N'Jadaka reduced it to. All her tinkering and synthesizing for Bucky has given her the formula for manipulating the herb, and all her research on the spiritual elements of their ancestry has given her building blocks she never had before. If she can use the herb to help him, she can use it to help her people.

And if she can do that, perhaps she can also show the Queen Mother, her brother, and everyone else who is so worried about her that it's okay for them to chill. She's got this.

Speaking of chilling, perhaps she isn't the only one who needs some space and perspective. She's going to get her mother away from the palace, too. Get _her_ mind off her daughter's budding affection for the white man currently slumbering under guard in their guest wing. _Fate..._ _ **love?**_

Is that really what her mother fears? Is that really what this is?

Shuri's eyes are getting heavy as she works everything out and plans her plans. She realizes that she hasn't thought directly about Bucky in a long while. Her beads haven't gone off so he must still be dreaming away. She finds that she's happy about that. He needs his rest, and so does she.

They'll be apart for a while, now, but she can get used to it.

Shuri needs to figure out her feelings for herself, on her own.

Still, she wants to act on the idea she had in his room earlier.

She sits up, rousing herself long enough at least to get this done. Activating her beads, she says his name...or rather...the name she gave him.

"Ingcuka," she says, and her center bead activates, blinking red, letting her know it's recording.

She sighs softly, taking her time, wanting him to hear in her voice how much she misses him. Wanting him to feel how she wishes she could be in his arms, tonight, and any night he needs her.

Shuri begins to speak, telling him what she hopes for him and letting him know where she'll be if he needs to talk - even to see her from afar. Wishing him rest and a sense of belonging in Yeda. Promising him that they'll keep going until every last trigger is gone, if indeed that's what they accomplished tonight.

Only time will tell.

Shuri accepts that - even though she is _also_ right that something beyond science and reason is pulling her toward James Buchanan Barnes - her family is right to plead with her to slow down.

She gave him a little push and now he's setting his own future in motion. Here in Wakanda. Possibly - hopefully - for a long time to come.

She can give him that time.

She falls asleep and dreams of her father when she was a little girl, how happy he made her. He gave her all the tools she needed to become her true self, never forcing her to hold back - not her mind, nor her passion. She misses him in a way that doesn't hurt for the first time since he was killed as she drifts in and out of dreaming memories.

The warmth of the sun, far past sunrise, wakes her. And the low, steady chiming of her kimoyo beads. Groggily, she opens her eyes and squints hard to focus on the holographic notifications.

Bucky is awake. And he left her a voice message.

Eagerly, Shuri twists her wrist and the message begins. As if Bucky is right there in bed with her, holding her to him, his soft, sleep-heavy voice greets: " _Mornin', Sunshine."_

* * *

When Bucky wakes from floating in the stars, he isn't in the lake anymore, or the kraal.

It's bright outside and he's surprised to find that he's sprawled on his back in his room back at the palace. In the middle of the bed he never sleeps in, unless it's with -

"Sunshine…?"

He smells her on him, even feels the phantom of her soft, slinky form curled against his side.

But she isn't here. He's alone. Bucky reaches his vibranium hand up without looking and pulls one of the pillows from behind his head, bringing it back down where Sunshine would be, holding it to him. She was definitely here with him last night, he can smell it.

He doesn't know how she got in or if anyone saw, but it doesn't matter. It also doesn't bother him that he missed her while he was knocked out cold. He _does_ miss her, but he feels lighter. Less anxious than in the last week without her here.

He remembers his vision.

 _He had a vision._ Of his mother. And all his childhood memories came flooding back.

He dreamed of them. That tiny apartment in Brooklyn. His Pop, his Ma, his little sister Nancy. And Winnie...dying pneumonia, years after his Pop's heart attack, while Bucky was away.

It devastated him, finding that out while he was on his mission with the Commandos. Steve comforted him, letting him get drunk, staying up all night reminiscing about how they used to tear up her kitchen when they were kids. Letting him cry quietly without them having to speak a word. Winnie was a wonderful woman. She was half of why he used to be a good man.

Bucky wants to tell Shuri about what he experienced, but she's not here and it's unlikely he'll get to see her any time soon.

He turns his eyes to the floor-to-ceiling windows, noticing that the curtains are pulled back enough to show him a glimpse of a royal guard a few feet beyond the stones of his sitting space.

He knows there are probably more in front of his bedroom door.

Is this to keep him from getting far in case he _was_ triggered and flipped out during the night?

Or is this to keep a certain tenacious princess from sneaking into his room again?

At the same time that it gives Bucky a pang of guilt for accidentally disobeying the Queen Mother's gracious request, it gives him a flutter of warm affection for Shuri.

His flesh hand takes hold of the dog tags that are still hanging around his neck.

He pictures her sweet, angelic face turned up to his by the light of the fire when she gave them to him in the kraal, and the way she looked as they drifted ever closer together in the water. How the stars sparkled in her eyes. How absolutely beautiful she was with her smooth shoulders partially exposed, the beads in her hair, her honey toned lips. Her soft voice calling him _Ingcuka_ like it's more than just a nickname...like it's fate.

His intense urge to kiss her breath away grips him hard, arousing him mercilessly.

Even amidst all this ritual and uncertainty, at the end of the day, he can't hide from his attraction to her anymore. _You've officially worn out your welcome in the palace,_ he thinks.

His kimoyo beads chime, changing colors against his pale wrist as he raises it to his eyeline.

There's a voice message. It's from Shuri.

Bucky twists his wrist, holding his breath as he listens.

" _Ingcuka…"_ she sighs softly, causing a tornado of heat to wrench itself through him forcefully.

It's as if she's right here next to him, curled up against him, her satin skin heating his through the delicate fabric of whatever one-of-a-kind garment she's wearing to sleep in. Bucky inhales deeply, getting a faint taste of her scent, letting the heat swarm inside him with her every word.

" _The elders have granted me permission to bring you back. I believe they will help me heal you, though they're being very stuffy and tight-lipped about it…"_ he smiles slowly, hugging the pillow close, letting her pretty, musical voice lull him like a lazy river current.

" _You slept so long and so well. I was worried at first, but now I think it's because of how strong a dose we needed for someone like you. My calculations may be a bit off. Everything can be improved. Anyway, I came to see you. Umama tried to stop me, but I wouldn't let her._

" _I didn't want you to leave, Ingcuka. I still don't want to be apart from you. But you need rest, and a chance to clear your mind now that you've taken your first steps toward freedom. These won't be your last. We'll keep going until the last trigger is gone. I believe this is the way even more now. I…"_

She pauses, sighing again. He closes his eyes to imagine himself stroking her honey lips, feeling her breath ghost across his skin. Leaning in to kiss her words away, make her shiver, make her melt. Make her open up to him like a dewy, blooming flower stretching toward the light.

" _I wanted to tell you something. When I said I tried the tea myself before, I didn't finish. I had a vision. In it, my ancestor Bashenga showed me my future._ _ **Our**_ _future. You and me, running together, fighting together._

" _I don't know what it all means, but I know every step I've taken since you came to Wakanda has brought me closer to you, closer than I ever expected. I'm no longer afraid of it._

" _I'll miss you. Much more than I want to admit. But, I can be patient. We both have a lot of work to do, so...I can do without you, for now._

" _Yeda_ _ **is**_ _as beautiful as everyone says. The children there will be so obsessed with you! You go and start building the life you want for yourself, and I'll be here to support you._

" _Keep in touch, Bucky. Just say my name, and we can talk whenever. You can even see me through these, if you wish. Whatever you like. Until we sleep again."_

The message stops. It's followed by more of those little pictures - this time the princess, the wolf, a happy, yellow sun and a big purple heart between them. Bucky stares at the little symbols, letting their possible meaning sink in, letting himself hope, and dream, and pretend that he's the exact opposite of the man he's been for so long now.

A knight in shining armor, scooping up his sweet princess and carrying her off into the sunrise.

That isn't what he is, though. He's a broken man trying to put himself back together again. He feels better, lighter, more determined, but he still has a long way to go. Bucky finds that he can make peace with that if his Sunshine can forgo what's written all over her sweet voice, what he feels is blossoming in her heart, to give him what he needs, rooting for him from afar.

Still...he doesn't ignore his instinct to respond to the princess in kind this morning.

He pulls the beads closer to his mouth, twists them, and utters "Shuri?"

The center bead blinks, settling on red to indicate that he can speak more, he guesses. He takes a moment to debate how he wants to greet her, and decides to indulge himself.

The guards can't hear him, her mother can't hear him, T'Challa can't hear him. No one can hear him but his sweet Sunshine. This will be just for them, just until he can work his way toward proving himself no threat whatsoever to Wakanda's Precious Jewel - except maybe her heart.

"Mornin', Sunshine…" he begins, his chest feeling tight with longing to have her in his arms.

He pretends he's whispering in her ear, his face buried in her neck. Tries to picture himself holding her, so she can hear in his voice that he really, really misses her, too.

And he'll continue to miss her like crazy, every day - and especially every night - that they're apart.

* * *

Shuri lies prone against her pillow as if it could possibly compare to him, listening to his voice with breathless anticipation. Like a lovesick teenager. But she doesn't care.

" _Thank you for coming to check on me. I think I can smell you, still. You, and the lake, and the fire."_

Shuri feels a flutter of heat that causes her to bite her lip, the way his voice gets lower and more serious with his last few words.

" _It kinda worries me, you defyin' your family like that, but I'm not surprised you found a way to get what you want…"_ He's teasing her. The dynamic shift twirls her off her axis, in the best way possible. She can hear curiosity, and affection, and _a promise_. She wants to hear more of him like this.

She hugs the pillow closer, wrapping her legs around it, burrowing snugly into her soft, cool bedding, listening to Ingcuka speak with sleep and awe coating his gentle voice. He sounds like he took a trip to Brooklyn overnight, his drawl coming out more and more as he goes on.

" _I did more than just sleep. I had a vision, just like you. I saw my mother, Shuri. Clear as day, like she was real. I remember so much more about her now than I've been able to in so long._ _ **I remember my childhood.**_ _You have no idea_ _what this means to me."_

Her heart aches for him, listening to the raw emotion in his soft voice. And then it soars, hearing his next words and how he calls her 'princess' like it's a term of endearment and not just her title.

" _I think I saw one of your ancestors, too. Whatever you did, princess, I think it's working. I feel different. I feel more like myself. And I know I owe it to you."_ He takes a deep, long breath, exhaling heavily. " _ **Damn,**_ _Sunshine…I am so in awe of you."_

Shuri's eyes slip shut and she pictures his heart-shaped lips nuzzling against her neck as he held her tightly just the morning before.

" _I hope you're still with me, because I wanna keep going with you. With these visions, with my therapy...with all of it. I'm gonna miss you, too. I definitely shouldn't admit how much. A hell of a lot._

" _The Queen Mother's right, though, it's time for me to start repaying you all for your kindness. But...if you still want me to, I'd really like to call you sometime, when I'm settled, if you're not sick of me."_

She buries her face into the pillow, squealing noiselessly at how absolutely adorable he sounds struggling to hide the intensity of his request. He wants more time from her than their agreed-upon therapy. He wants to call on her, and she doesn't think it will be to talk about the details of her treatment, at least not all the way. This excites her so much that she almost misses the last of his voicemail. Bucky's low, affectionate voice closes out his beautiful message in the perfect way.

" _I have a lot to prove to a lot of people, especially you. You showed me kindness when I wanted to end it all. Helped me see myself the way I used to be. For once, I feel like I_ _ **can**_ _be. But I wanna earn it."_

He pauses for a long time. She listens to his breathing, her skin tingling with anticipation.

" _I wanna earn more time with_ _ **you**_ _, Shuri. I'm going to. However long it takes. Whatever I have to do. I won't let you down, I promise. I'm always thinkin' of you, Sweet Sunshine. Until we sleep again..."_


	11. His First Taste...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After three months of being apart and coping the best they can with their situation, Shuri finally walks back into Bucky's world in person. He falls hard all over again, and realizes that she's worth every trial that the world can throw at him. Plus, he gets his first real taste of her and becomes instantly hooked. She's going to test every ounce of his self-control from here on out...

_**THREE MONTHS LATER...** _

* * *

"Ingcuka! _BUCKY_! Down here!"

Bucky stops pounding the hammer into the last nail, pausing his work securing another reinforced strip of hay and wood twine to his newly expanded roof. He leans upward in his squatting position, squinting against the sun, to see N'Yuna walking toward his home, a big basket of groceries from the river market cradled in her bare, toned arms.

She waves at him, her wide, bright smile shining, her Dora tattoos standing out against her toffee skin to him even from all the way up here.

He waves back, standing and jumping down to the grass from the roof with practiced ease and the balance of a super-soldier. Bucky runs his real fingers through his hair to get a better look at her, dressed a lot more casually than he's used to seeing her in cut off cargo shorts and a gray tank top. She's usually in her bright crimson uniform, spear at his neck, helping her fellow warriors kick his ass in training. Lately, though, he's been training to lift and catapult them, supporting them in their combo attacks, using his body to aid theirs in jumps, kicks, lunges - however they can use his strength to their advantage. N'Yuna has become his friend, trainer, and sparring buddy.

He's glad to see her. She looks happy to see him, too.

Her smile only widens as she reaches up on her tiptoes to wrap her arm around his neck when he leans down to greet her. He gives her a loose squeeze with his vibranium arm and a quick peck on the cheek. She makes a face at the ever-thickening layer of brown scruff covering his chin as he steps back to take the basket from her, balancing it with the hammer. The Dora have taken to letting him know he's starting to _look_ like a wolf, too, the way his hair is growing out.

" _Hey, 'Yuna. Didn't expect you today. What's all this?"_ He says in Xhosa, turning to lead her toward his steadily expanding home, sifting through the spices, fish, bread, and other ingredients.

He notices her smile widen even further if possible out of the corner of his eye. He practices his Xhosa with her the most, and he's been steadily improving. The villagers help him get it right, too, impressing her with how much he's learned every time they see each other.

" _Just some supplies I got for dinner from the market on my way here,_ " she replies in kind, following him at his side and stepping in before him when he nudges open the door for her.

"All this?" he questions in English, following her inside. He sets the heavy basket down near the table in the middle of his spacious, circular, kraal-like home of red stone tucked at the back of the village at the edge of the river.

It was previously a trade storage house, where they kept goods, then eventually nothing but spare bales of hay or wandering goats or chickens for years before he first arrived. He took pride in how much he had made it a home since he got here. Working on it keeps his mind occupied in the most peaceful way.

He watches N'Yuna look around, taking in all of the improvements he's managed to make since she was last here. Carving out a kitchen nook, a little corner where he's set up a bath area, his bed and sitting area, and a hammock in the front where he likes to read news and books on his kimoyo beads by one of the only two windows. And talk to Sunshine.

He's working on a loft area, where he'll eventually move his bed, with a skylight he'll open up soon, so he can watch the stars at night. It's his little secret, but he fantasizes sometimes of having Shuri up there. More and more lately of making love to her under the stars in the home he's managed to build here.

Bucky blushes where N'Yuna can't see as she peeks her head around the corner of the newly sculpted, makeshift kitchen nook, where he's started to add the simple wooden wall stairs up to the planned loft.

"That's enough food to feed the whole village," he continues, to focus his thoughts, moving over to the kitchen nook to put on some tea for them. "I'm sorry, I'm a sweaty mess. Didn't know we had dinner plans."

"Eh, it's a bit of a surprise get-together. I took some time off from my duties, a couple of days. I'm shocked grandfather hasn't let it slip."

He thinks back to all of his interactions with the villagers the last few days, including her father and grandfather, the chief, N'Yansa. The usual. Mostly the village women doting on him with food and gifts and clothes they made, the children playing with and teasing him, and the men putting him to work on improvements to virtually every home in the village, including helping them build or expand pens for the growing livestock, fishing, and trading to add to his meager collection of belongings. No mention of a party or big supper, though. Just the usual small talk and village gossip. Routine.

Bucky takes the bucket of water he fetched from the river at dawn and purified for whatever he needs today, scooping out enough to ring through his hair and over his neck to cleanse of the sweat he built up working on his roof all morning.

"Nope. What are we celebrating?" He wipes the excess condensation from his skin with his apron as N'Yuna finishes setting them up for tea. "Olla doesn't turn ten 'til next month," he informs, referring to one of the village children whom he suspects has a teensy bit of a crush on him. She likes to ride on his back and braid his hair - _tightly_ , and with very little mercy for his general comfort, even with his ability to withstand most pain.

Also, he knows, Shuri doesn't turn nineteen until a few weeks from now. He keeps this to himself, glancing over at the unfinished wood sculpture he's been working on for her gift.

N'Yuna spots it, of course, having become pretty good at watching his every move since they've gotten to know each other, for some reason. _You know why_ , his mind gnashes at him, but he ignores it as she makes her way over to the hammock and reaches down underneath to pick up the unfinished wooden wolf.

He watches her examine it, her light brown eyes squinting as she turns it over in her hands.

"A special gift for someone, Ingcuka?" 'Yuna asks in her sandy voice, glancing up at him as she makes herself comfortable in his hammock. She stretches her long, toned body, holding the wooden sculpture up to the sunlight streaming in from the small window next to her. "Olla, perhaps?"

He wants to tell her no, that it's for the princess, who lets him call her almost every night, and talks to him _through_ the night sometimes. Sometimes even lets him see her. He wants to tell her that it's to let his Sunshine know he's always here for her, even if they can't be together physically. He can't tell 'Yuna, however, who Sunshine is. Or about some of the things they talk about. How intimate it gets, or how his longing for her princess has only grown in intensity since they've been apart.

The kettle sings, boiling over, saving him as he feels himself getting worked up. Bucky moves to steep them some tea, glad to hide his face from her probing, expectant gaze.

He knows 'Yuna and some of the other Dora think he has a crush on someone, maybe one of them, maybe even her. There's really nothing he can do about it, aside from being on his best behavior.

"Nah. Well, actually, I've got somethin' special in mind for her," he smiles fondly as he works, shifting to think about Olla. He pours two small cups from his meager but colorful dish collection, all donated to him by each family in the village. "A pretty comb I found in the market. She likes doing hair. Hopefully, with this, she can get through practicing her braiding on me without rippin' mine outta my scalp."

"Oof, that American accent!" N'Yuna teases, thankfully letting the wolf thing go, tucking it back under the hammock as she rises to join him in the sitting area on the floor. They cross their legs and sit at the little table atop the large, circular, colorful, hand-woven rug Shuri bought him and had shipped here. It's the most stylish and expensive-looking thing in here. "It gets worse every time I see you. Anyway, it's not a little girl's fault you colonizers are so tender-headed."

He scoffs at her teasing, handing her a cup and passing his little bottle of honey so she can sweeten to her taste. He shrugs. "Well, the tender head is my Pop's fault. Blame the Doc for the accent. Every time Dr. Nandi visits lately, she brings another memory out of me from back home. It's crazy."

N'Yuna makes a noise behind her cup. "I'm so glad to hear you're making progress, though!"

Bucky blushes again, this time with pride. It wasn't easy for him in the beginning, opening up to Dr. Nandi Mbizu, the Wakandan psychologist Shuri set him up with. But the woman is patient, reasonable, and incredibly insightful.

They sip their tea and chat as the afternoon wears on. 'Yuna explains that she's been meaning to come and spend some more time at home, a few days to reconnect with her people, see her parents, and brag to the chief. She also hints that she's here to see _him_ , gage how he's getting along, see if her recommendation to try to fit in, in Yeda, is panning out how she'd hoped.

He gives her what she hopes for, telling her how the villagers have accepted him. He works, doing every manner of odd job someone happens to bring to him without complaint, so grateful is he to have a place of his own. He makes improvements to his home, sees his doctor, and looks forward to another dream session with Shuri and the elders in Vision Lake. He looks forward to Shuri, period.

"You haven't gone back?" N'Yuna asks in a shocked whisper, gulping her tea, her eyes wide.

"Not yet," Bucky sighs and tries to explain why he's not too worried. "The princess is in charge of all of this, but she's been with the king in America. Without her, I don't think I'm allowed there, anyway. It's okay, though. I'm here on his terms, remember? I'll wait as long as I have to. I haven't hurt anyone yet, so..."

"Oh, no, Ingcuka, of course, you won't," she reaches across the table to touch his real hand, squeezing it affectionately. "I didn't mean to imply that. Only to make sure you're alright."

She demures under his gaze, letting her hand slide back. He knows she means it. It's a real pleasure for him to know he has her rooting for him, too. But he also fears he may have to do something about the way she's looking at him, soon. " _Enkosi, mhlobo wam._ "

Her smile isn't as bright and wide as before, but she gives it, and changes the subject.

They finish their tea and Bucky eyes the basket next to them, thinking he should put something on ice or get it to the village elders soon. "You want me to walk you down to your dad's? I'll get this food to the elders too, while I'm at it."

"You should stay in that hut gossiping with them all day, you know." He takes fake offense to her teasing. "Just like an old lady, you."

"What? I can't help it if they like to involve me in the drama goin' on all up and down the river. Anyway, it's good practice."

While she has her back turned, he quickly changes into a clean shirt and puts his wooden wolf away in the toolbox he was given his second week here.

"What is it this week, eh?"

"Everyone's betting on when the king'll ask Sister Nakia to marry him."

"Ha!" N'Yuna clucks with disbelief as she rummages through his meager spice collection, likely noting what she might pick up for him when she's in Central Wakanda again. "She'll never accept. That girl has been a free spirit since she was a baby. Our tribe is full of strong women who prefer to flow like the river, he could never hold her down."

"Yeah, that's what I told 'em." Bucky agrees nonchalantly, really having no clue, making her laugh and toss a tea bag at him.

He catches it easily without even looking and tosses it back as he slips on his shoes. He misses her appreciative gaze while he pulls some of his hair back into a little bun. When she turns to replace the tea, she spies a gaggle of little ones running toward them from the village beyond through his window.

" _Ingcuka! Ingcuka! Come out to play!"_

"I think you've got company, Ingcuka."

* * *

It's his most frequent visitors since he moved to the village, Olla, Bisi, and Yemi.

All of them boldly claimed him as their new playmate from the moment he arrived, brooking no refusal from him.

They already knew who he was from the village gossip. They wanted to test out his strength and supposed fantastical abilities for themselves. They soon grew bored with that, though.

As usual, today they want him to pretend that he's The Hulk, or Iron Man, and they either pretend to be Doras or Black Panthers. He lets them win, lets them attach themselves to his legs, both flesh and vibranium arms, and back (Olla's favorite place) and drag him down to the dirt.

He always gives a good fight. Blasting them with invisible Iron Man firepower (having gotten to know it first hand, he gives the performance his all), or "smashing" invisible buildings (them).

N'Yuna looks on fondly from the little stool outside under his little window, rooting the kids on, encouraging them to not hold back. He can't really be mad when they pull his hair or hang on three at a time to his vibranium arm to see how far he'll have to toss them to get them off. He tosses them into the hay. They love it. Beg him to do it one more time, and one more time. He agrees but only if he can switch arms.

It's exercise. A lesson in control, focus, letting off steam without breaking anything precious.

It reminds him of throwing his kid sister and Steve around, because he was always just bigger than them both. They always trusted him. He never hurt them, just roughed 'em up a little.

He likes that these demanding little kids trust him enough to pull his hair and tease him and let him toss them around. He likes that N'Yuna trusts him enough to send him to her home village and watch him bond with them without a care.

He's doing push-ups and sprints with Olla on his back when he hears the Jeep roaring toward them along the river, music floating on the soft late afternoon breeze. He sees N'Yuna sit up straight out of the corner of his eye, her hand shielding her face as her mouth drops.

"It's the princess!"

Bucky stops, rising to his feet, turning to see for himself as Olla slips off and joins her brothers to run toward the river's edge and greet the Princess of Wakanda. Here. In person. Without guards.

"Princess Shuri! Princess Shuri!" The kids yell and wave with absolute joy, and Bucky's heart soars right out of his chest as he watches her slide out of the jeep, taking her sunglasses off, her smile bright as Christmas.

She looks amazing, her mocha skin glowing beautifully against her ankle-length, yellow button-down sundress. Her braids are done up in a faux halo in front that cascades down her back and shoulders. Her eyes sparkle. Bucky is struck mute as he watches her greet the children, opening her arms wide to hug and tickle them all as if she's known them since they were babies.

"Hello! You've all gotten so huge! Are you teasing that man?"

"Nooo!" They all hug her, hanging on to her as she walks forward. "We're fighting!"

"You're fighting? Are the boys cheating, Olla?"

"Yes! Ingcuka the most!" Olla confirms, giving Shuri a charming smile.

"Oh, really?" She turns her beautiful face up to him as she stops just a few feet away. The children all run toward him to try to tackle him into the hay.

" _Ingcuka! Ingcuka, toss us again!_ " They demand in Xhosa, tugging on him.

For a moment he can't respond. He can't see anything but her. He gazes at her, head to toe. And she him in kind, the heat of their connection to each other returning in full force, like they hadn't been separated for so long. "Hello, Sergeant Barnes."

Her sweet voice reaches out to him, almost tentatively, as if she expects his feelings to have cooled, despite how absolutely horrible he is at hiding how riveted he is by her right now.

"Bucky...your highness."

"Shuri. Please. How are you?"

"Good. Thank you." She laughs, as the kids have started pushing him to get him to do something fun. He lets them pile onto his vibranium arm and tosses them into the hay, cringing at their loud squealing when they're airborne.

"My princess! What a pleasant surprise to see you!" Bucky exhales roughly, lowering his eyes from Shuri when N'Yuna appears, beaming and offering the Wakandan pride salute.

"N'Yuna, it's so good to see you, too." Shuri lets her sparkling eyes fall away from his and warmly pulls N'Yuna in for a tight hug. "You look amazing, how've you been?"

"Good, good! About to lose my figure at the feast tonight." Bucky looks on fondly while they embrace, but has to frown thoughtfully at the hint of secrecy in Yuna's tone just now. "Speaking of which, my princess, will you be staying? The chief would be so pleased, and you know my mother cannot wait to see how you're finally filling out this skinny tree branch of yours!"

Shuri laughs with embarrassment and shrinks away as N'Yuna pinches her on her slender (yet admittedly slightly more curvaceous, Bucky notices) hips. "Yeesh! You tell your 'mama to make my favorite, and I'm there."

They laugh and hug again, giving the kids a chance to swarm them, breezing right by Bucky.

He watches, trying to put two and two together as to why - _how_ \- she can be out here on her own, looking so good, with the intention to stay for dinner.

N'Yuna seems to have the same idea as she looks around Shuri, pausing from tickling the kids. "No Okoye or Ayo? Where is your escort all the way out here, your highness?"

Her Dora instincts kick in when Shuri looks slightly guilty for a moment. "Not far behind. Getting a few last minute things from the market. 'Mama and T'Challa wouldn't miss tonight. Ooh, and Nakia is coming as well!"

N'Yuna looks excited again as she gasps and glances at Bucky proudly. "The King and Queen Mother! _And_ Sister Nakia? My Baba said he invited them, but I didn't believe him! He likes to exaggerate."

"Well, it's an important occasion." Shuri winks at her.

They're both looking at Bucky now. Even the kids have started crooning at him teasingly as if they're all in on a secret he's too dim to puzzle out.

"Someone wanna tell me what I'm missing?" He addresses Olla, knowing she won't be able to resist spilling the beans.

"Not a chance." N'Yuna clamps her hand over the girl's already opening mouth, "I'll get these little troublemakers back home and let everyone know you're here, princess." Shuri steps back and kisses their little cheeks one by one. "Don't move for a few minutes! You know they'll want to make sure everything's ready for the king! Let Ingcuka, here, watch you until your escort catches up, you disobedient thing! You're in good hands. He's been training well with us."

His Dora teammate pats him proudly on his vibranium shoulder and drags the kids away as they yell their goodbyes, stopping to grab the basket of groceries.

He just stands there, drawn to her but holding fast to the spot.

Shuri slowly turns back to him after a long glance up at his home. The sun is starting to set as late afternoon fades into evening.

"So... _everyone's_ coming down here for dinner? As in _everyone_ , everyone?"

She nods, smiling serenely. "Yes. We don't have much time. I had to be quick - and clever - to slip away in the market and get here ahead of them."

"How long?"

"Hmm…" she scrunches her face up adorably, rocking on her feet, "maybe thirty minutes?"

He frowns again, his stomach clenching with anxiety, thinking about how fast she had to be driving down the dirt path to get here, _alone_. Anything could've happened.

"Will you show me around, Ingcuka?" Shuri asks, looking like sunshine in yellow, cute and so, so desirable all at once. She looks happy, clear-headed and bright-eyed. Sexy.

He nods, his expression softening, and gestures for her to lead the way.

She turns around, her small hands folded behind her back, and moves toward his home that he's so proud of. He's not so proud of how he must look right now, though, all sweaty and disheveled from playing, and he's now rethinking not shaving for the past few weeks.

He follows close, though, catching whiffs of her scent on the scant breeze afforded by the river. It's different, maybe stronger because it's been so long, but still _so soothing_. Bucky struggles to think of something to say, so caught up is he in just the physical presence of her, glowing so beautifully, her dynamic energy somehow calmer now but no less disarming.

He eyes her from head to toe as he surreptitiously straightens his hair, pulling it back again and redoing the bun a little neater. He's going to have to change shirts again, maybe even wash up properly now that he knows everyone's coming - for what, he still needs to suss out.

He starts thinking of ways he can get her to tell him what's going on as he closes the door behind him while she looks around. She spots the rug she bought him dead center, bringing the entire space together, and gives a happy little sigh.

"It's perfect there."

"Hm, yeah. Was hoping you'd like it there. Lights the place up, just like you."

She turns around to face him, her gorgeous eyes giving him that _look_ he remembers from their time together in the palace...the look that says she needs him. Wants him. Aches for the safety and warmth of him. It's been months, and he's ached for her _every night_. Even though he gets to hear her voice and see her sweet face sometimes via kimoyo beads, he still hasn't found a satisfactory way to cope with the absence of her slinky, petite body against his.

His eyes drop down to her honey lips, which part under his gaze. She goes breathless for him, and that's all he needs to start walking toward her. He makes it in two long strides, picking her up.

She gasps against his mouth, her hands sliding up to grasp hold of his neck. So warm, so diminutive, so soft. _God_ , he missed her. She whines, wrapping her legs around him to press herself flush against him. Bucky's nostrils flare and he leans in, kissing her breath away.

No dream or fantasy he's had of her since he left the palace can live up to the radiant, beating life of her in his arms.

He kisses her deeply as he walks toward his (much less luxurious than royal fare) bed, holding her tight so he can feel her shiver and melt against him.

"Mmm…" she croons sweetly, pulling him down on top of her, unfolding underneath him like a rolling river current, making him burn inside. He only lets her whisper, "I missed you so much," before he dips his tongue inside for another indulgent taste of her.

Bucky takes a few more quick, intense kisses from her honey lips before burrowing his face against her to rub his nose along her neck, kiss her there, inhaling his fill of her. He's overwhelmed by her scent, and her high, musical voice and her heated body molding to his underneath him.

"I missed you too, sweet Sunshine _. Damn._ You're ten times as gorgeous as I remember you."

"You saw me just last week, silly," Shuri giggles when his beard scratches at her uber-soft skin, shrinking away from him, yet at the same time she secures her legs around his waist and pulls his massive frame in closer. He doesn't want to squish her but he _does_ want to hold her as close as he can get her and not let go until she begs for escape.

"Holograms don't compare to _this_ , princess."

In response, Shuri turns her head to capture his lips with hers, slipping her tongue into his mouth. He groans and bucks his hips into her, causing her to gasp, giving him the upper hand along with more of her to taste.

Bucky almost gets carried away, feeling his blood pumping down hard into his groin as Shuri rocks her body into his and tightens her legs around him. Feeling her writhe and undulate beneath him only makes him kiss her harder, deeper.

Suddenly her sundress seems like an inconsequential, easily removable barrier to what he _really_ craves. Her slinky, mocha-toned body. Her dewdrop breasts. _Mm_ , the sweet nectar between her slender, soft thighs.

"Sunshine, we gotta stop." He reluctantly peels his lips from hers, nuzzling her cute nose with his before withdrawing from her with a heavy sigh.

He has to clear his head, remembering that they probably only have about twenty minutes, now, before someone comes along and catches him feeling up the princess in his hut.

She rises with him, slipping her way sneakily onto his lap. She leans in to steal a kiss from his neck before nuzzling her nose in his cleft. "I drove like a maniac to get twenty minutes alone with you, now _kiss me!_ "

Bucky laughs into her mouth, wrapping his arms around her and losing himself in her sweet lips and dancing, silky tongue just one more time. He indulges in her warm orbit and soft little moans for a few minutes more before his arousal roars at him to stop or pay for it. He pulls back again, resting his forehead against hers.

"Hm-mm. Gotta stop. Unless you want to tell me what tonight's all about?"

She whines against his lips, causing his arousal to punch him in the gut. He plants a couple of quick, intense kisses on her before lacing his real fingers into her braids and angling her face so he can look her in her sparkling eyes.

"Alright, alright." Shuri relents, her sexy little pout turning into a look of excitement. "Chief N'Yansa wants to officially make you part of the tribe. You'll have to go through trials, but it's a really good sign, Bucky. T'Challa wanted to be here to personally officiate and congratulate you."

Bucky feels overwhelmed with gratitude and the same excitement shining back at him in her eyes.

He stares at her appreciatively for a moment, rubbing her spine through her dress with his vibranium fingers. "Wow, princess. I don't know what to say."

She chuckles, gazing at him with adoration, kissing him sweetly. "Say yes, at the ceremony tonight. Pledge yourself to the River Tribe. Let them adopt you, and we can see each other more."

"Yeah?" He dares to hope.

"Yes. I have one more trip to the states with Brother, and then I'll be back for the rest of the year. We can go to the healing pools again, remove all of the triggers."

Bucky's immense relief turns to heat at the thought of getting to see her more in person - and the challenge it will present in terms of his self-control; their discretion. All he's done so far is steal a few kisses and the forbidden nature of it all is making his head foggy with the thought of how he's going to resist the future temptation.

He steals another kiss. Then several more, unable to stop until he's made her melt into him again, clutching at his chest with one delicate hand and hanging on to the long hair at the back of his neck with the other. The taste of her, the scent of her, _the softness of her lips and tongue_ , makes him tug her closer to wrap her up again.

Bucky hungrily kisses Shuri just a little bit longer, until they can both feel him getting hard, and she's trying to tug him back down onto the bed with her.

"I'd better change…" he breathes, gently removing her from his lap to stand and put some distance between them. She's so hard to resist when she's all sweet little moans and warm, pliable flesh.

At a distance, he stands a chance.

Shuri lets him off the hook, but doesn't bother to turn away as he pulls off his shirt and splashes himself with soap and (thankfully) cool water from the large bucket in the corner.

He changes, making sure he smells clean and his hair is tamed. She watches him the whole time and is close to him again once he's done without him noticing.

Bucky shows her around, trying hard to keep his hands to himself. He can't resist picking her up and placing her on his muscular, flesh shoulder so she can see where he intends to put the skylight up close, though. He doesn't disclose exactly what he intends to use it for, but he caresses her thighs through the fabric of her sundress with his chin and vibranium fingers, silently prompting her to use her imagination.

When he puts her down, he tugs her closer and steals a few more kisses. Shuri rises up on her tiptoes, her elegant fingers lacing into his wavy hair as she wraps her arms around his neck. Bucky squeezes her to him, picking her up close to smell her one last time before it's back to pretending they don't absolutely adore one another or ache to touch and be close to each other.

"How much trouble are you in?" He asks quietly against her neck, nuzzling her there slowly.

"Meh, I just told Nakia I had to pee really badly and that your place is on the edge of town, close enough for me. I drive fast."

He doesn't like that, but the closest he comes to expressing it is tickling her and making her shiver. "And she believed you?"

"I didn't give her a chance to argue."

Bucky sighs and sets her down. They don't have much time. "Let's get goin', then, princess."

It takes gargantuan effort, but they're able to separate from each other and he walks her outside into the cool, fragrant evening. The crickets are starting to chirp. The trees are starting to sway. His favorite time of day.

She has gifts from the market for everyone in her backseat, and apparently T'Challa and Nakia are bringing more once they catch up.

"I love your place, Bucky." She says as he takes the two baskets from her and cradles them in his arms. "You've done so much to it in such a short amount of time."

"I like to. Keeps me occupied."

Shuri frowns, retrieving a small travel bag and securing the Jeep with a twist of her kimoyo beads.

"Not that I don't have stuff to do, it's just…" Bucky shrugs as they head toward the path into the village, away from the riverside road. "Building stuff reminds me of back home, with my Pop and my uncle. We didn't have a lot of money, so we fixed stuff that broke, found a new purpose for stuff that got old, fixed stuff for neighbors to make money, that sorta thing."

She gazes over at him, enraptured by the wistful look on his face.

"Did your Pop teach you how to do carpentry?"

He smiles slowly, adoring the way she says 'Pop'. "Yeah, that and a whole bunch of other stuff."

They don't get far before her beads chime and Okoye's hologram appears at her wrist. "Princess, you were supposed to check in when you arrived."

Shuri rolls her eyes. "I had to _pee_ , Okoye. I wasn't thinking about that! Anyway, we're already on our way into the village, so don't worry."

Okoye sighs, but is clearly amused, and not exactly fooled. "Is Ingcuka there?"

"Evening, General," Bucky leans into the hologram's sightline, adjusting his load of gift baskets to nod respectfully at her.

She appraises him coolly, her smile spreading slowly as she takes in his relatively well-rested appearance. Though she shakes her head at the beard. "Hello, Ingcuka. I'm sure the princess has managed to let the cat out of the bag, as you Americans say. Congratulations."

Bucky smiles humbly. "Thank you, ma'am."

"You earned it." Shuri breathes with relief prematurely, but as they hear the approach of the royal tailgate, Okoye adds: "We're coming up on the river's edge now, princess. Your mother expects you to wait where you are."

Okoye ends the transmission and Shuri turns to glance nervously up at Bucky. He gives her a soft, encouraging smile.

She returns it. Her sparkling eyes linger on his before she turns to face the river.

There will be more ceremony and the need for focus, self-control, but no more uncertainty. At least not for Bucky. He knows he's falling in love with the princess. He knows he's going to have to keep that to himself for now, maybe for a long time.

He endured half a lifetime's worth of torture. If he can keep working, keep succeeding, keep her and everyone else on his side...and maybe steal a kiss or two here and there...he can handle it.

He wishes they were walking to greet her family hand in hand, as a real couple, but he has to be content just to be on the same page with his Sunshine.

It's their little secret and no one else's. For as long as it has to be.

The royal tailgate stops, and a very relaxed, even smiling T'Challa emerges from the passenger seat of the cream-colored Rolls Royce donning the royal crest on an antenna flag.

He nods in acknowledgment to Shuri and Bucky, his expression neutral as he turns and offers his hand to help the Queen Mother, followed by Nakia, out of the spacious back seat.

They all look amazing, regal, and certainly dressed for an _occasion_. Bucky feels significantly underdressed by comparison. He wonders if Shuri has a change of clothes in that little bag she's carrying.

Bucky braces himself for the scrutiny of the Queen Mother, and, frankly, of the king, whom he hasn't seen or properly spoken to since the night of the battle for Wakanda.

"Don't worry…" Shuri whispers where only his keen ears can hear her. "I've been good. I managed to calm Umama down, too. All T'Challa knows is that I'm your anchor and my therapy works."

Bucky can't help but smile as the small procession of royalty, accompanied by Okoye, two other Dora and a couple of the King's Guards, closes the distance.

He sets the baskets of gifts down as Ramonda opens her arms to him, her gaze sharp but cordial.

He can tell she is relaxed but still as observant as ever. He allows her to embrace him, stepping back to take his hands and take in his full appearance. "You look good, Bucky. How are you?"

"I _am_ good, ma'am. Thank you for coming."

"We wouldn't miss such an important occasion, Ingcuka," T'Challa interrupts cheerfully, shaking Bucky's hand.

Bucky nods humbly. "King T'Challa. It's good to see you."

"You as well, my friend. Shuri tells us you've made yourself indispensable here in Yeda. I'm glad to hear it. _And_ to hear that your first session with the elders was such a success."

Ramonda looks down demurely, as the three of them remember the intensity and drama of that first session in Visions Lake.

"It really helped," Bucky supplies earnestly. "And these last few months have been great. Thanks to the princess setting me on the right track."

He glances at Shuri, captivated by the tentative pride in her eyes, but doesn't overdo it for their audience.

"Oh yes, we've also heard nonstop about my _brilliant_ little sister's breakthrough." T'Challa teases, grinning in a very unkingly manner. Shuri rolls her eyes but can't suppress her smile. "She's also helped us replenish a very ancient and sacred part of our ancestry, through her work with you. For that, I am nothing but grateful. _And_ hopeful...for Wakanda's future."

" _Praise the ancestors,_ " the Queen Mother utters in Xhosa, followed by Nakia, and Okoye, and Shuri, and T'Challa.

"But tonight is about _your_ future, Ingcuka," the Queen Mother adds, nodding to Bucky encouragingly.

"Yes, and we're running late," adds Nakia. Bucky hastily introduces himself, embarrassed for forgetting protocol in front of the most famous member of the River Tribe. Nakia waves a hand dismissively and eyes his attire. "Is that what you're wearing?"

He nods awkwardly.

She _tsks_ , gesturing for one of the King's Guard to fetch something from one of their cars. T'Challa, Ramonda, and Shuri look on with amusement, obviously used to this.

He's brought another gift - this time an outfit to wear to his ceremony - and he accepts graciously.

They all walk in a guarded group into the village, Shuri just ahead of him, T'Challa at his side. They talk about the future, and he catches the king up on his activities in the village since last they spoke.

Sunshine looks back at him just once, smiling sweetly at how well things are going so far.

They can do this, he sees in her brief glance. They can keep going, and work their way toward being together. He doesn't know what the future holds. But with her here, shining her light on him up close again, he has hope.

That's all he needs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys enjoy these last two chapters! I'm going to turn my attention back to my other story, Steve/Shuri, which I am also having a lot of fun with. When we return to Winterprincess, we'll start moving faster, and getting steamier...stay tuned! Thank you all again, so much, for your comments and for continuing on this journey with me. It has seriously helped me get through some very tough days...
> 
> -MM


	12. Highs and Lows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky spends the night with his new tribe and gets closer to T'Challa. On the surface all is going in his favor, but with the political stakes of his presence in Wakanda mounting and the number of people counting on him growing, he finds himself being tested before the night is over when Shuri steals him away for another taste of forbidden fruit...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi. It's been a hell of a few weeks. I find myself needing desperately to escape. I know I am supposed to be updating TC, and am about halfway done, but I couldn't help indulging my secret favorite, AFLS/ELW. I hope everyone is coping well, in their own way.
> 
> -MM

The entire village comes to the feast.

By the time they start to eat, it looks like there’s at least a couple of representatives from almost every  _ other _ village along the river here, too. 

The evening turns out to be a bit of a roller coaster. The highs are high and the lows are...interesting. 

Everything starts off fine enough. There’s a lot of fanfare, and a lot of people. The villagers have all pulled a fast one on him, there’s no mistaking that.

He doesn’t know how they were able to fool him. Everyone acted normal when he came in for supplies this morning. Granted, he spent most of the rest of the day working on his roof since he was off from going out with the farmers. For him, all seemed quiet and peaceful as usual.

Somehow, since he last turned his eyes from the place up on his roof this afternoon, the expansive body of homes and farmsteads has transformed. There are lights hung up everywhere and the villagers have set up a huge table (with a few smaller offshoots) in the center of the village. Everyone moves in to greet them from that center, all dressed for a celebration. Led by the chief, N’Yansa and N’Yuna with her parents. 

T’Challa (who had been filling Bucky in on his work around the world since last they spoke, while simultaneously observing his asylum seeker’s changed demeanor) claps Bucky on the back. “I’ll bet you are very surprised right now, eh?” he chuckles before leaving him to embrace the chief fondly.

Bucky has no time to properly take it all in. Very quickly, he is having to divide his attention between the chief and the villagers all congratulating him seemingly in overlapping waves. 

And just as quickly, N’Yuna and Nakia sweep him away, the both of them rushing him to N’Yuna’s parents’ home to get him changed.

He’s torn away from Sunshine before he can get a proper look at her to anchor himself, but he swallows down his disappointment and follows the two famous daughters of the River Tribe.

The food is still being prepared, but there’s a lot of introductions before they start to enjoy that, Nakia explains. ‘Yuna just keeps glancing at him with her eyes dancing excitedly as they push him into the home of the village elders and put up a partition so he can get changed.

“A little confession, Ingcuka?” N’Yuna says with just a trace of chagrin as he tries to figure out how the long, colorful tribal fabric is supposed to wrap around his body.

“Yeah?” He huffs, trying not to be annoyed with all this, remembering he’s grateful. Remembering that he gets to spend the evening with - well,  _ around _ \- his Sunshine after months of sleepless nights without her in his arms. “Night’s the night for those, I guess…”

“Weeell…” ‘Yuna sings, causing him to pause and squint at the partition in his face.

“What Sister ‘Yuna is trying to say is that the chief is determined to strengthen Yeda’s political standing in Wakanda and  _ you _ are going to help him,” Nakia interrupts, her smooth, rich accent informing him matter of factly. 

Bucky frowns, but continues to get dressed in silence. This, for once, is not foreign territory to him.

“It’s not as heartless as all that, yeesh!” N’Yuna adds, laughing. “Grandfather just believes in you. He has a special gift for bringing out great potential in others. You’ve proven to him, every day you are here, that you will make a strong asset to our tribe.”

_ I think  _ **_you_ ** _ might have somethin’ to do with that, too, _ he thinks, but it’s not like she hides it.

“Eh, Chief N’Yansa fancies himself a bit of a talent scout. He encouraged me in my training since I was a small one. He’s always on the lookout for the next Dora or royal asset to bring pride to the riverlands.”

Bucky wants to scoff but doesn’t. How could  _ he _ bring them pride? They go on to explain what tonight all means. Because Bucky’s is basically famous on the river right now as their first ever foreign refugee of sorts, especially one with his abilities and the personal backing of the king, Chief N’Yansa knows once word gets out about his presence here, the political ramifications will ring far and wide. King T’Challa agrees. They aim to get ahead of it.

If Bucky is to be accepted in Wakanda - if T’Challa is to prove himself a king who puts his people first and will move forward stronger than ever - he must be shown to be fully integrated into their society. He cannot simply hide here haunting these people like a ghost. He must step into the light and serve them proudly. Both Yeda and the king benefit from this...arrangement? Alliance? Adoption? But so does Bucky. If he goes through with this and lets himself become an official member of the River Tribe, the easier he can be trusted to serve the king and the country, the easier to earn his official extradition and pardon from the crimes he’s committed all over the world.

...the easier he can get closer to Shuri.

He shouldn’t be thinking that last part at all, but he is. Pretty much always. His abdomen tightens with longing.  _ If you ever get to have her the way you know you really want her, you’ll be Wakandan. That'll count. _

Bucky stops thinking and just listens before his thoughts start to affect his body. 

“It’s not just about keeping you all to ourselves, Ingcuka,” N’Yuna says sweetly as he nervously emerges from the partition wearing the more traditional River Tribe attire Nakia brought. The fabric is soft and breathes well, even layered as it is. The colors, burgundy, gold, grey and dark green, compliment his skin tone (somewhat sunkissed after spending so long working in the Wakandan heat) while denoting the tribal colors. She pauses, eyeing him with approval, “it’s about making sure you being here benefits both you and Wakanda.”

“T’Challa is determined to see it done,” Nakia finishes, stepping up to him to straighten his layering job and make his hair look a bit more presentable. They don’t have time to braid it, although he’s sure if they asked Olla she’d do it right there at the dinner table. “As are you, yes?”

“I am.”

When he’s dressed with the approval of both the ladies, he’s taken back out to the party. He is warned to expect more people on the way out into the village center. “What d’you mean more, the whole village is here…” he mutters.

“Well, we sort of invited all the important people from the entire tribe?” N’Yuna sounds like she hopes answering him in the form of a question will make him less nervous, but she’s dead wrong.

He just needs to see Sunshine, though, and his nerves settle before long. 

He can only see her from a distance for most of the interlude before dinner as more and more people arrive. They all seem to know who he is - well, he  _ does _ stick out like an old pickup at a Stark expo - and they test the boundaries of his limited Xhosa as the introductions wear on. But he perseveres, partly because he knows the entire royal party is watching him from their various positions entertaining the guests, but mostly because Sunshine is circling him surreptitiously. She seems on the verge of swooping in to speak to him (or save him) every now and then, but she doesn’t. He is aware of her, always, and he picks up on her amusement whenever she glances his way and their eyes meet. He picks up on her musical voice through the crowd, too. As long as he can hear it in his vicinity, he’s good. He can tell by the sound of her, it gives her energy and boosts her warmth, being around the villagers and distant River tribe members. Just feeling her orbiting him helps keep him calm and feel centered as he gets to know everyone briefly and answers questions - half in English and half in the native tongue. 

Dr. Nandi even appears, dressed in stunning silver, gold, and green that brings out her freckles. She greets him warmly, impressed at his poise with so much going on around him. “Ah, it’s so nice to see you getting along so well, James.” The good doc greets him in her deep, comforting voice. “And looking so good! Not all sweaty from working as usual.”

He chuckles at her reference to their early days, when he found it hard to speak, let alone open up about what he was feeling. What he’d been through. So she asked him questions while he worked on his home, and the distraction of paying attention to what he was doing helped him answer honestly. Eventually he sat still, and they began having real sessions, but her patience through all that had endeared her to him, for sure. At least enough to allow her to call him James as she insists. 

“To tell ya the truth, I kinda wish I was working,” he tilts his head down to confess, sighing. Being honest with her is about as easy as it is to be honest with Sunshine by now. “I’m not sure I deserve all this, Doc.”

She pats him on his vibranium arm, and he swears he can feel the warmth of her empathy, even through the precious metal. “All anyone expects is for you to try. Nothing less. Nothing more. Trying is what keeps us alive, Ingcuka.”

He nods, taking her words to heart. He wants to deserve it. So he’ll try.

The feast is massive. And delicious. He especially enjoys Shuri’s favorite, a perfectly seasoned, rich bobote that NYuna’s mother had baked. The elder he’d come to know as a soft spoken, shrunken version of her daughter has blood relatives in the region of Africa where the dish is common. 

Several Dora have shown to support him tonight. He sits in a row of them, N’Yuna next to him near the chief and king. Shuri, radiant as ever, sits with her mother a little ways down from him. In order to see her, he has to look past both N’Yuna and Ramonda. So he isn’t afforded many looks her way, at least none where his eyes can drink their fill of her for longer than a second unobserved. Okoye and the other Dora keep good company, regaling T’Challa and Nakia (the latter sitting directly opposite him) with tales of how they were able to ‘break him down’ when he first arrived. He lets them gloat, knowing full well that if he’s ever triggered there would be an entirely different story. It’s thoughts like these that sober him when he gets too swept up in everyone’s kindness and hospitality. What a risk everyone here is taking to welcome him, how dangerous it is and still could be for them all. When he starts thinking this way, though, he retreats into himself, and N’Yuna (who always notices) has to pull him out with her voice and a light touch. “We all agree, we’re grateful to have Ingcuka in our ranks,” she says firmly, accompanied by noises of agreement from the others down the line. Bucky’s eyes find hers and he smiles softly at her, feeling buoyed by her support. “He’s proven far more committed to our ways - and our calling to protect Wakanda - than we ever thought possible, my king.”

“Ah, not even I can deny that,” Okoye agrees, eyeing him as if she’s surprised to find herself here at dinner with him on the eve of his induction into one of their tribes. “I’m being lobbied to make him an honorary Dora.”

“No kidding?” T’Challa raises his eyebrows. “Well, well, three and a half months and you’ve made yourself an indispensable asset to our nation. They trained you well in HYDRA.”

Bucky has to laugh at that, heartily. T’Challa is no fool. He knows full well that Bucky is trained to blend in (or gain trust), infiltrate, and carry out orders by any means necessary. Shuri has opened up to him about their relationship with their father a few times. According to her brother’s behavior, it looks like he’s giving over to his empathetic side, a side that his father too often ignored. The message in T’Challa’s eyes at all times, regardless if they are thoughtful or impressed or amused, is that he is watching...and waiting...to see which way the pendulum will swing on Bucky’s fate. He may not be a genius like the princess, but he is as patient as his mother, and as deft of will as both parents combined. He will be ready to meet Bucky head on, for good or for ruin. Something tells the former Winter Soldier, if it's for ruin, the Black Panther will win out. Tonight is a celebration, but like Sunshine said earlier, it’s  _ all _ one big trial. 

T’Challa leans in, right before the chief stands and silences the wall of chattering voices for a speech. 

“I find I’m experiencing a sense of urgency to commit myself to opening Wakanda’s borders. As political as all of this must sound, I’m afraid I require your participation for some of it.” His eyes fall to his ring for a moment, and then Bucky’s dog tags, before rising to meet the former soldier’s again. “I also haven’t summoned you because I wanted to test you. To see what you would do without me escorting you through each day.”

Bucky swallows.  _ Touch, kiss, and lay in the same bed with your baby sister _ ...he thinks darkly. 

“Don’t worry, you passed,” T’Challa teases. “And don’t let the elders’ stoicism discourage you. Shuri’s work has much changed you already, I can see it. ‘Keep to your path’, as the ancestors say.” 

Chief N’Yasa rises to speak. 

_ Keep to your path _ , Bucky remembers from his vision; the black sand figure’s voice reverberated through his entire being. There is tremendous promise, and yet nearly overwhelming fear, associated with such a statement of faith in him. No orders to bring back a confirmed kill, no ticking clock, no threat of ice and electricity. Only the gargantuan weight of a good man’s trust.

And the lethal temptation of a beautiful young princess’s heart.

“ _ Ingcuka... _ ” The chief addresses him and the villagers hush. N’Yuna and her parents look on at him proudly as the chief tells him why he’s sitting here in Xhosa, celebrating with them under the stars tonight. “ _ When a child is born among us, we celebrate with a feast. We name that child as a village. When our sons come of age, we wrap them in the protection of the ancestors and send them into the wilds to ulwaluko.” _

Bucky glances around as a ripple of chatter goes through the dinner party. 

“ _ They return,  _ **_men_ ** _ , sons of Yeda, forever tied to the fate of this land, our people. My granddaughter, _ ” the chief gazes fondly at N’Yuna, “ _ brings you to us, Ingcuka, asking us to adopt you as  _ **_our_ ** _ White Wolf. She is willing to shepherd you through our ways, as your sister in Yeda.  _

_ “We have watched and listened, and seen you prove a humble member of our village. Your humility is your sword, boy. Your strength. My child’s child has given her blessing. Tonight, as chief of Yeda, I give you mine. _ ”

Bucky turns to look at N’Yuna, stunned. She smiles fondly, and her behavior toward him is cast in a new light. “Like a scrappy mutt, you are, Ingcuka, but someone has to look after you.”

Emotion overwhelms him as he stares at her in shock. “Why…?” he manages to choke out. 

“I’m a person of faith. Faith in Bast, faith in who you are, Bucky. I’ll take responsibility if I’m wrong, but I don’t believe I am.”

“I don’t believe so, either.” T’Challa chimes in. 

Bucky surreptitiously wipes away a few tears as his eyes find Sunshine. She sits next to her mother, a few heads away down the expanse of the table. The Queen Mother is applauding him warmly, no trace of tension in her expression. Princess Shuri gazes at him with more than pride. He feels a magnetism emanating from her that makes him wish he could get up from his seat and go to her, pull her away from everyone watching them. She wants it, too. They linger too long, because Ramonda glances at her daughter just once. Bucky takes a deep breath and looks away.

“Mutt, huh?” He decides to make a joke to break up the intensity in his expression. ‘Yuna beams and ruffles his hair. He calmly tucks it back into place again with vibranium fingers and mutters before the chief can get started again, “Kiddo, I’m technically old enough to be your grandpop’s Pop.” 

“Yes, but you still  _ look _ barely older than a cub.” N’Yuna laughs as the chief officially asks T’Challa and the royal family to bless Bucky’s adoption into the tribe.

While they converse, Bucky asks about  _ ulwaluko _ , a tradition that’s been with Wakandan people since before ‘the great gift’ of vibranium from Bast, ‘Yuna informs. It sounds harrowing for the commonly aged boy usually going through the trial (about sixteen). Circumcision, followed by a week’s isolation in the wilds surrounding the rivers with nothing but a tribal blanket and a spear for protection. It will be mostly a gesture of commitment on his part. Bucky obviously won’t need to be circumcised, but a week alone in the wilderness sounds oddly appealing to him for some reason. He has a lot of thoughts to sort out.

“Piece of cake,” she promises as the celebration begins in full swing. “For a super being like you, anyway. For the boys going out there with you…” she gives him a pained cringe. He gets the picture.

They’re interrupted by a tap on his shoulder from small, insistent fingers. Bucky turns to see Olla carrying a leaf with paint inside, her dark eyes sparkling. He leans his face down close enough so she won’t have to reach too far. She smiles, and they don’t need to speak, because he can tell how proud and excited she is about all this. Her cheeks are big and her teeth are showing, she’s beaming so hard. It makes him smile, too, and feel warm with the sensation of belonging, as she dots his face with paint in a pattern that indicates his name, White Wolf. He tells her ‘ _ enkosi _ ’ and gives her a peck on the cheek. She runs away, embarrassed. 

N’Yuna trills and touches her heart. 

“I think it’s official, Ingcuka,” T’Challa grins as he turns back to show them his new face paint. “You are one of us, now.”

Bucky glances over to find Shuri hugging a still-shy Olla, whispering encouraging words as she tries to hide her face. The princess looks back at him, as radiant as the sun even at night. 

Yes...it’s official. He’s here to stay.

* * *

There is dancing and singing far into the night. 

Even N’Yuna’s mother takes his hand and lets him lead her around the edges of the fire pit on dancing feet. Bucky keeps up his energy and acceptance of the attention he’s getting as best he can, but Shuri still hasn’t come to him. A quick scan of the crowd and he can see why. 

He feels like a fool for not being prepared for the emotion that grips him when he spots her.

A couple of young men from another village up river are chatting with Nakia, Ramonda, and his Sunshine. They seem to know Nakia.

By most accounts, they’re relatively harmless. Maybe childhood acquaintances of hers, from the informal body language he sees on display. Tall, the both of them, strong, dressed as if they knew royalty would be here. Shuri is palling around with them, impervious to the way each of them appear to be competing to impress her. That’s the one account that matters to Bucky,  _ strongly _ , in this moment. These guys are all charming smiles and jokes but Shuri is quick-witted and appears to be dominating the conversation. 

Her eyes find his. He must be standing as still as a statue, just staring, because the look she gives him lets him know she isn’t pleased. He quickly lowers his eyes to get a grip on himself...and finds T'Challa approaching him again. He readies himself for some sort of retribution for staring at the princess, but T’Challa merely stands next to him, observing the mingling crowd.

“I’m happy to be home tonight,” he says quietly, the firelight dancing across his skin. He glances up at the blanket of stars spinning above the trees. “And it is a  _ beautiful _ night here on the river.”

Bucky silently agrees, gazing up at them, too. He takes a deep breath. Smells the fire smoke, the lingering aroma from all that delicious food and wine, the river itself, so close to the village. And he hears Sunshine’s musical laughter. His eyes are drawn back downward to find her as she’s now dancing with one of the young men from another village. He is more mindful of anyone watching him, now, so he tries his best to disguise his reaction. 

“Shuri may not believe she has time to entertain what she sees as a triviality, but…” T’Challa gestures with an amused chuckle at how awkward the young man is trying to respectfully keep his distance while at the same time staking some sort of claim, “she’ll soon have more than just a crush or two from the local villagers to contend with. Courtship is part of her duties,” he shakes his head and laughs heartily. “She’ll absolutely  _ hate _ it.” He looks excited to watch her deal with being courted but Bucky doesn’t enjoy this knowledge one bit. “I can’t wait.”

“Yeah, that’ll be...something,” he comments quietly, watching her dance, envy building up for this nameless boy with stars in his eyes as the princess lets him spin her and gently guide her. Suddenly, standing next to the king, her big brother, who trusts him and treats their interactions these days like a budding friendship, his chances of ever being able to do something like court the princess of Wakanda seem as distant as those stars above their heads.

How many days will he have to endure before that can be him? How many nights? How many trials, before he can turn to the king and say  _ ‘I think I’m falling in love with your sister and I want your blessing to prove myself worthy enough to be with her’ _ ?

T’Challa turns to him thoughtfully. “You, too, neh?”

“Huh?” Bucky rips his gaze from Shuri to see T’Challa gesturing around the crowd with his chin. Bucky scans the faces of the celebrating villagers somewhat unseeingly, his eyes inevitably drawn back to Shuri.

“Surely you’ve noticed a few pairs of quite keen eyes following you around tonight?” The king goes on, his amused smile remaining. Bucky looks again with intent, now, and manages to catch a few of the women from the villages up river - even a Dora or two - stealing glances his way sporadically.

He lowers his blue gaze and shrugs. “I’m pretty sure I should just focus on getting better,” he chooses to reply as honestly as he can. “I’m not looking for, uh, anything like that.”

It isn’t exactly all there is to divulge, he knows guiltily, but it’s not a lie, either.

“Ahhh,” T’Challa bumps him good-naturedly, “don’t worry about it. You’ve got a bit more work to do before any of  _ these _ mothers would trust a wolf with her daughter.” He wiggles his eyebrows, resembling the big brother Shuri must see when she looks at him, causing Bucky to laugh through his rapidly falling hopes. He may as well count Ramonda among those mothers. T’Challa senses his lingering pensiveness and mistakes it for something else. “When Shuri told me the name she’d given you, I had to think about why it works. I believe now that it could be a perfect choice.”

“I’d love to understand why, myself,” he lets his soft smile linger, his eyes darting to Shuri again. She’s paused to refresh herself, but she is still entertaining, now with the help of her mother and Nakia again. She meets his eyes but her expression is unreadable. He doesn’t think she’ll approach now, with T’Challa so near and so observant. “I thought it might have something to do with these,” he taps his Commandos dog tags with his vibranium. “But I never asked, just sorta let it happen.”

“A wolf’s life is devoted to his pack. Not to himself,” T’Challa espouses, pointing at the tags in confirmation. “They move together, hunt together, protect each other. You’ve spent half a lifetime alone, my friend.” Bucky listens, letting the night and the music and the ceremony overwhelm him as T’Challa, a man who wanted to kill him mere months ago, lets him further into their world, opens up a path to redemption. “For all the lives you took, now you must find a way to  _ protect _ .”

T’Challa turns and has him look out at the villagers who opened their arms to him and gave him refuge. Kind, perceptive N’Yuna and her generous parents, the nurturing chief and the loyal Dora, the friendly River Tribe, the magnanimous Queen Mother. 

His sweet, dynamic, warm, lovely Sunshine.

A family who chose to embrace him despite all there is in him to fear. He’d be a fool not to want to protect them all, especially her, with his whole being. Even from himself, if it ever comes to it.

“The people of Wakanda are your pack, now. So far, you are showing us that you can live up to the name your tribe has given you. Keep to your path,  _ Ingcuka _ , and you will always have a home -  _ a family _ \- here.”

For just a moment, Bucky thinks T’Challa might be wishing he could say the same to his lost cousin, Killmonger. N’Jadaka. Rather than lingering on who the king is really saying this to, he nods his understanding...his unspoken promise.

* * *

  
  


Highs and lows. 

The music doesn't stop. The spirits remain high (and flowing).

He has to endure more time apart from Shuri, but that’s not the problem. Just knowing she’s okay - laughing, having a good time, enjoying being surrounded by her people - makes him feel really good. He loves to see it, or hear it if he can’t have his eyes on her.

And he likes that the River Tribe members in attendance seem a lot more open to him than he anticipated. 

What’s bothering him is that he can’t get T’Challa’s words out of his head about the inevitable expectation of royal courtship, and the obviously attention-seeking behavior of those young men from up the river. Not that he thinks Shuri is interested. Not that the Queen Mother or the Dora (or the Big Brother, for that matter) would tolerate any crap. 

He isn’t proud of himself, but he’s so far spent the last half hour as the night beats on fantasizing about pulling Shuri close and holding her in a way that lets everyone here know... _ know what? She isn’t yours _ . He wishes they knew, though, just for a moment. He wishes he could show those young River tribesmen they have no chance, because the princess is only interested in being held and kissed and touched and swept off her feet by  _ him _ .

It is a selfish, petty, immature line of thinking but it persists, nonetheless. He thinks perhaps he might ask Dr. Nandi to come by and see him once the day breaks.

The night is coming to a close as more and more tribespeople are breaking off to begin the walk home, and more and more Yedans are packing up leftovers to take back to their huts.

Bucky is left among a cluster of Dora, trying his best to give them his full attention, but he is brooding, and he knows it. It doesn’t help that some of them are chatting about which of the young men will give up first. He doesn’t mean to sour the celebratory mood of the night, especially because it’s for him, but Shuri is still talking with those guys, and he hasn’t been near her as much as he would like all night. He’s starting to think she’s keeping herself away on purpose. He can’t think of what he could have done to anger her in such a short time...except perhaps his closeness with N’Yuna could’ve been misread. This notion drives his anxious mind into overdrive and he lapses into silence.

“Okay, we’re settling this.” He hears Sunshine declare. “Ingcuka, can you come here a moment?”

Bucky turns to find the princess right in his personal space, her small, soft hand taking him by his flesh arm when she gets close enough to embrace. She pulls him toward her and he has to work quickly to hide the intense surprise (and yearning) that flickers across his face before he realizes she only intends for him to  _ follow _ her, not fold her into his arms.

She smells intoxicating as he gets a whiff of her scent coated in firesmoke. Bucky lets her lead him past the pit to where the young men are waiting. His eyes slide from her to them. He knows what his face must look like, because they definitely shrink in their cocky demeanors somewhat as Shuri closes the distance between them. This, he doesn’t bother to hide. At least not from them. They’re attractive, but pretty young looking now that he’s closer. Babies, compared to him. He softens his expression a little. He doesn’t like them hovering around Shuri like moths on a street lamp, but honestly his earlier assessment that they’re harmless rings true. 

Especially when he realizes what Shuri has called him over here for. Why she’s been so engaged with them both all night. “Sorry, I hate to make you my model, but could you…?” She lifts his vibranium arm for them to see, and they ogle it in awe.

Shuri waves her kimoyo beads over his arm as he watches, quickly understanding once a hologram of the arm’s composition, readings, and functions appears.

“That is  _ sick _ , oh!” One of the teens declares, riveted as Shuri explains how she created the arm and what it can do. Bucky sees these two in an entirely different light as they chat with her excitedly about the specs and pummel him with questions about how he uses it. 

They’re a couple of fanboys. Bucky feels like an old fool, but he relaxes. He finds he’s proud, watching her cast her spell on them with her sharp wit and astounding intellect up close.

Shuri eventually goes quiet as she watches the boys turn their competitive attention toward him, wanting him to divulge how much he can lift or throw, how hard he can punch, if he can really hold his own in a fight with all of the Dora at once. They trip over themselves telling him stories of their own feats of strength and ask for tips in fighting styles from his experiences abroad. 

Soon, it’s officially time to call it a night. The center of town has basically cleared out, with the exception of its elders and the royal family. The Dora are technically still on duty, even as they continue talking quietly nearby.

The young men (best friends, like brothers, he learned) reluctantly announce their friends who couldn’t attend are expecting them in the city. Bucky gets the sense that one or both of them want to ask the princess if she would deign to make an appearance at some club they’ve mentioned more than once tonight, but they wisely don’t. He knows it’s because he’s standing there, and he doesn’t regret it. He likes them, but they shouldn’t push it.

They charmingly thank both Shuri and Bucky for their time, leaving with a promise from him that he’ll see about getting up their way to spar with them sometime. 

Shuri turns and looks up at him, still touching him, still scanning him. There is quiet for a few breaths as he gazes at her checking the readings she’s getting, making certain adjustments. He flexes his fingers, almost feeling a release of pressure, enjoying having her hands on him, even if it's not his flesh.

She’s so beautiful, so special. 

He watches the lights around them glide across her skin. He wants to kiss her, audience be damned.

“You know, for a spy, you have a terrible poker face,” she teases with bells in her voice, low enough so they won’t be overheard. His eyes dart upward and outward to make sure no one is watching them. Shuri gazes boldly up at him, her skin glowing in the dying light of the embers in the pit.

_ Sorry _ , he tells her with his eyes as she ends her scanning. He doesn’t know how to convey to her that he feels her slipping from his grasp the more he thinks about her duties, and the other people in her life, and all the other considerations. She’s such a vibrant young thing, her mother is right. Asking her to tie herself to him before she’s even had a chance to experience anything else seems suddenly cruel. Shuri looks as if she can read this all as plain as day on his face.

To his surprise, she smiles sweetly. “I heard a secret about you tonight, Ingcuka.”

He frowns, shaken out of his dark revelry. “A secret?”

“Mm, must be, you never told me yourself.” She is clearly trying to lure him out of his mind by teasing him, but he honestly has no idea what she could mean. He doesn’t keep much from her when they talk. Except perhaps just how intensely he misses her at night sometimes. And the exact things he talks about with the Doc. 

Shuri laughs, causing Ramonda to glance over at them from across the distance over the pit. She doesn’t move to interrupt, merely observes for a moment before returning to her quiet, ember-side chat with the chief.

“Rumor has it you saved Olla’s life not long after you arrived? Show off...”

Bucky leans back in embarrassment. Ah. Right. He does tend to downplay that. It isn’t a big deal. He was headed back out to the river’s edge after a day of working one evening when cries rang out about a pack of wild boar tearing through the village. Olla was running into the field to escape a couple that broke off from the pack, and she tripped. Bucky’s super strength and speed enabled him to get to her, scoop her up, and jump her to safety up in a tree so he could deal with them. 

“She’s been sweet on you ever since, you know,” Shuri teases, making him shake his head to hide a slow smile of his own. 

“Yeah. I try not to embarrass her. She’s a good kid. It’s how I stay in shape, keepin’ her outta trouble.”

Their gazes lock and linger, and just like in the warm, ancient kraal almost four months ago, they find themselves moving steadily closer, like magnets. 

“Oh!” She gasps abruptly, snapping her fingers. “I almost forgot! One more gift before we go…”

And she runs off, leaving him wanting, and crashes her brother’s conversation with the elders. He doesn’t hear what she briefly says to him, but in an instant the whole group is looking over at him. T’Challa smiles and nods, giving Shuri some kind of verbal permission before raising a hand to gesture ‘goodnight’ to Bucky.

He waits, and watches as Shuri kisses her mother on the cheek and says goodnight to N’Yuna’s family. He lets her lead him again as the royals and elders retreat into the chief’s home for one last round of drinks. His heart thumps hard as he realizes that Shuri is leading him out of the central village, back toward his home on the edge of the river.

“Sunshine, what’s goin’ on?” he mutters as they round the bend in the dirt path leading back to his place, out of sight of the others. She says nothing, grasping his real fingertips and curling hers around them to pull him onward.

For a moment, he doesn’t press, simply watches her body moving in her light, stylish ‘celebration’ dress as the river breeze sways around them. 

He stops her before she tries to pull him toward his home, not trusting his self control inside, behind a closed door. She giggles, giving him a look of such endearment, and changes directions willingly to lead him toward the tall, full, leaning tree by the river’s edge. His tree. He sits under it a lot to think, read, meditate, watch the children swim and let Olla braid his hair.

Shuri lets him go and glides gracefully forward to balance herself up on one of the tree’s jutting roots, turning to gaze at him sweetly. Her smile widens as he stops just on the river’s edge to watch her, keeping his distance. She shakes her head.

“We’re going to get caught in no time if you don’t try a little harder not to look so jealous, you know?” She laughs again, “I think poor Uze and N’Yone were scared to talk to you. If I didn’t take matters into my own hands, they’d have chickened out of asking you to let them see your arm.”

“That why you were avoiding me all night?” He can’t help hovering in his dark mood just a bit.

“As if I could get near you!” She chirps. “‘Yuna and the Dora had you surrounded like  _ you’re _ the one they’re protecting.”

She’s smiling but he can sense there’s something behind it. He might be right about her reading his friendship with N’Yuna incorrectly. He is drawn to her again, closing the distance, having no idea how much time they have before her family comes and she has to leave him again.

He stops just a breath away from her and looks up into her eyes. Bucky lifts his hand and touches her stomach, stroking the fabric blocking her skin from his with his thumb. “‘Yuna’s a good friend. My adopted sister, now, I guess.”

She touches his beard, his cleft, tucks his hair behind his ear. He pulls her down and kisses her slowly, wrapping her up in his flesh arm to lift and press her close.

Bucky exhales as Shuri wraps her arms around his neck and lets him taste and caress her until they need to separate to breathe. “Then why are you having second thoughts? What did T’Challa say to you?”

Damn, she can read him like no one else. Highs and lows. 

“Nothin’, Sunshine, he just reminded me what I’m doing all of this for. He trusts me. They all do,” he whispers, referring to everyone in the village, including her mother, counting on him to do right by them. “I can’t...I can’t let them down.”

Bucky tightens his grip on her even though he really should be putting distance between them before they’re caught. His senses are all tuned up, anticipating the abrupt bursting of their intimate bubble while also diving into it like it’s a replenishing dip in the river on a hot day. 

“Bucky, you’ve done nothing to abuse their trust. You’ve never hurt me, you're not taking advantage of me…”

He pulls back to look at her, feeling every bit of the distance between his century of years on this earth and her eighteen and some change. Shuri sighs, leaning into him again, not allowing him to distance himself. 

“I do exactly as I please, Bucky Barnes.”

“Not if you’re tied to me,” he shakes his head. “Not if you’re waiting around for me to get my shit together. You’ve got duties. You’ve got a responsibility to your people...not to me.”

“ _ We _ are getting your shit together, and  _ you _ are going to keep your promise to  _ our _ people.” He frowns deeply, and she kisses it away, whining a bit against his lips so he will open and give her his tongue. He does, wrapping his other arm around her slight frame, leaning her against the tree so she can slip back down to her feet while he unleashes his longing in full force for just a moment. When they come up for air again, he is in danger of getting hard, so he steps back an inch or two. “It’s going to be difficult, we knew that, Ingcuka,” she presses as he strokes her silky cheek. “I wanted to be close to you, in your arms all night, but I think tonight was a good test, don’t you?”

“Sunshine, this ain’t a test.” He chuckles sadly, gazing down at her sweet face.  _ If it is, I’m failing... _

“It  _ all _ is, silly. You said T’Challa trusts you, so don’t give him a reason not to. Keep your promise. Work your way up to the king’s guard. Meet me in the middle. We’ll make it if you keep dedicating yourself like you have been.”

“You’re going to have suitors.”

She laughs, which doesn’t help. “Is that what this is about? So, what? It’s not as serious as all that. Just a formality. I don’t have time to date. And it doesn’t matter, because I’m taken. It’s just that no one knows it yet.”

Bucky remains silent, trying to let his anxiety subside. He wants to tell her she’s too young to understand, but that doesn’t feel right.  _ You haven’t hurt me. You’re not taking advantage of me. I do as I please.  _ Shuri lifts herself up on her tiptoes to look around his broad shoulders, mischief glinting in her eyes. His stomach dips as she tugs him around to the dark side of the tree, where the lights from the distant village don’t penetrate the night.

He sighs hard, his chest crashing as she pulls him in to make out again. He doesn’t really resist, sliding his hands along her body until he feels the skin of her thighs. He lifts her, and she moans into his mouth. “Baby, we ain’t got all night…” he huffs, grinding into her. And technically, they’re still arguing.

“They’ll be sitting around drinking and talking politics for at least another hour,” she wraps her legs around his hips and grips, surprisingly forceful for such a slight little thing. “Kiss me, Bucky! We won’t have another chance like this again in--!” 

He shuts her up by really laying one on her, pressing her into the tree. Slowly, he stops, gradually shifting to gently kissing and nudging her little nose. “You get ten more minutes.”

She raises an eyebrow, that mischief flashing in her eyes again. “I hope you have something more exciting planned than making out for ten minutes. Maybe something to keep in mind when my suitors come calling?”

Heat flashes all over him as he recognizes the challenge in her eyes. “Can you keep a secret?”

She nods slowly, biting her lip. 

He leans in and kisses her lip away from her teeth gently. “A gift before my mysterious gift?”

She giggles and nods again, going somewhat breathless with anticipation. 

He decides to give her just a taste, slipping his tongue into her mouth to steal a few precious seconds lapping at hers slowly, demonstrating the intensity of his desire for her.  _ Just a taste.  _ Not a betrayal...just a gift...until he can clear his head again with distance and fortify himself for the long, dry, agonizing withdrawal he knows he is in for. “I need to hear you say it, princess.”

“ _ Yes _ ,” Shuri sighs, clutching at his shirt and sash, gripping him tighter around the waist with her legs. She can see in his eyes what he intends, and lets hers slip shut as he leans in to kiss her neck.

Bucky lingers there, tasting her skin indulgently before gently lowering himself to his knees as her fingers trowel through his hair. He lays kisses hot enough for her to feel through her clothes along her small breasts and ribs, then her stomach, making her shiver. He holds her steady against the forgiving bark of the looming, swaying, ancient tree with his vibranium palm pressed gently against her hip. Shuri shudders with barely contained anticipation, but he doesn’t speed up his agonizing pace as he strokes the warm skin of her thigh with his flesh fingers. He watches for her reaction, and she’s watching him, as he tugs her so she’s sitting halfway up on his shoulders.

He can smell her. 

He closes his eyes to inhale her rich, heady, fragrant natural scent as he turns his head to kiss her thigh. Shuri lets go of his hair to pull her skirt up so she can see his head as it steadily disappears toward the apex between her legs. Her breathing deepens and she begins to emit sexy little pants as Bucky finds himself pressing his face into her sex to inhale her overpowering scent through her damp panties. After a few kisses, almost hypnotized, he nudges the fabric aside with his nose and tastes.  _ Jesus _ ...Bucky lets go of her hip and pulls her into him roughly by her thighs so she rocks right into his mouth. Shuri gasps and grabs his head as his tongue slides slowly inside her warm, tight, wet sex. He sucks and pulls, causing her to pant in earnest and grind against him like a lazy river current, rocking his head back as his tongue licks her every tender fold. “Hold onto me, princess…” he breathes as he comes up for air to lock eyes with hers. She nods, licking her lips and falling back against the tree, letting him pull her up to his face again and lick her lovingly. She tastes warm, and salty, and sweet like a freshly plucked honeycomb. She’s tender and juicy and soft.  _ Mmm _ , she’s precious, and delicate, but insistent, pulling his hair, moaning sweetly, whimpering when he gives her clit extra care with strong strokes of his tongue. Shuri lets go of her inhibitions and begins to ride his face in earnest, chasing her release as his tongue slips in and out of her wet little hole without relenting, knowing full well she can’t tire him so easily. She only lets up so he can lick and suck her clit, his hair and strong arms her anchor.

Within minutes, she’s coming, locking her legs around his strong jaw and bucking around him. He holds onto her with ease, she’s so light but so bright and intense like a firecracker in his palms. 

She finally calms, falling away from his mouth and tongue with a tiny little sigh as she goes limp against the tree. Bucky kisses her thighs, squeezing her to him when she giggles at the sensation of his now damp beard against her skin. Nothing but the nocturnal sounds of the river lands coat the air as he helps her lower herself to her feet and straighten her clothing. He is hard as vibranium, but he is oddly satisfied, watching the extremely relaxed glow take her over as she steadies herself against the tree, her hands reaching out to tug him closer by his sash. She starts to try to undo his wrap, acutely aware of his bulge, but he steadies her hands and shakes his head. 

“Nah, it’s okay, princess. I’m good. Especially if you are?” Bucky kisses her forehead.

Shuri whines a little, but relents, frowning as she tries to refocus. It’s cute. It makes his erection nag at him painfully, but he’ll take care of it later. She’s given him enough to comfort himself with while he lies awake missing her tonight.

She leans up to kiss him, moaning softly when she tastes herself on his lips, inhaling herself in his beard. “Thank you, Ingcuka...you’ve definitely given me something to think about.”

He can only just smile and kiss her. They have a couple of minutes, maybe. He wants her back there before anyone gets suspicious or comes looking. Shuri senses this, as well. She sighs and lowers her head, taking his flesh hand to press her kimoyo beads to his.

He watches, turning slightly to smell her hair as she transmits some sort of encrypted passcode.

“T’Challa gave me permission to give you this personally, in private so you can enjoy it without anyone intruding.” She whispers as she inputs her own password to give him access to a comms channel the code goes with. “Also, it’s top secret. He arranged it, but it was my idea.”

“‘Course it was…” he mutters, still not really understanding quite yet.

Shuri leans up suddenly and kisses him intently, licking more of herself from his tongue before letting him go. “Don’t call until I’m gone. Enjoy it, Bucky. You earned it.”

She breathes, standing on her tiptoes, clinging to him as he holds her just a few seconds longer. She wants to say something more...but there isn’t time, or  _ this _ isn’t the time, or there just hasn’t been  _ enough _ time, period. He can sense it. He wants to say more, too. He only grants her another, chaste little peck on the lips and nose and lets her go, stepping back.

Shuri slips away and walks briskly back toward the village, her head held high.  _ Don’t give up on us _ , her eyes said.  _ Don’t give up on what we’re capable of, together...even when we’re apart. _

_ I'm falling **hard** for you _ , _doll, and I can't seem to stop,_ he wishes he could say.  _ I won’t give up _ , he chose to convey instead. That’s enough.

Bucky sighs, choosing not to watch her until she disappears, and sits down in his usual spot under the tree. It’s getting late but the breeze is cool and the river is peaceful. It serves to clear his mind of the intense feelings he always has whenever Sunshine is around. Although her scent lingers all around him, it’s a comfort rather than a distraction.

He looks down at his kimoyo beads, now blinking, awaiting the input of the code. He taps it in, and waits. It only takes a few seconds to connect, and he is suddenly bowled over by the hologram that pops up in his palm.

It’s Steve.

“Hey, pal…” his best and oldest friend’s deep voice sounds out kindly. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The intensity of their secret affair will only grow, and their obstacles will only get bigger, and please don't think it will (or even has) gone unnoticed. Politics, spirituality, the strength of forbidden love, family loyalty...it's all a test of the vision, the "path" they must keep. I hope you guys are still with me...


	13. "You talk, I'll listen."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky POV. Two important people to Bucky help him put his feelings for Shuri into much needed perspective. And not a moment too soon, because now the Royal Council calls. It's time to face the music. Will they allow Shuri to continue her treatment? Will they let him stay in Wakanda? The Winter Soldier would take what he wants and run with it no matter who gets hurt, but what would Bucky do?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A brief interlude until the holiday break, when I'll be polishing off a big goodie bag of chapters. I apologize for the long delay between updates. 2020 has been 2020-ing all up in my face, so I needed to deal with real life for a bit. Also, so much has happened, I wasn't sure if ppl would even be in the mood to read fanfic. However, after such good news from D+ (Falcon and Winter Soldier!!!) and a holiday coming where most of us will likely be isolated from friends and family, I'm hoping this will serve as a welcome indulgence until the new chapters are baked and ready to come out of the oven, lol. Okay I'm getting carried away...enjoy this sort of mini-chapter! I love writing from Bucky's POV!
> 
> -MM

Steve’s hair is longer. He’s grown a pretty thick beard, too. The look suits him.

He’s showing the telltale signs of being burdened by the running. 

Bucky’s spent enough time running to know the look. There’s also the gravity of the decades to carry through it all but he carries it well. Wherever he is, Bucky is not supposed to be able to suss it out, so he doesn’t try. At first he just stares, happy to see his friend but so full of warring thoughts he doesn’t quite know where to begin. He still has half his mind on Shuri, half on the trials ahead. Steve makes small talk for them.

“You look good.”

“I _feel_ good, like I’m getting myself back.” _Well, certain parts, anyway._ “It’s really damn nice here.”

“So I’ve been hearing. I’m jealous.” 

It isn’t a surprise that his old pal has been keeping tabs on him (most likely through T’Challa) even while dealing with his own situation. “Oh yeah? What’s the report?”

Steve’s blue eyes glint with pride. “Three months and you’ve won the favor of the princess, the Queen Mother and pretty much the entire River Tribe?”

The mention of Shuri, even in passing, causes Bucky to take a breath. He shifts around uncomfortably, still semi-hard and missing the unique way she tastes. To Steve, it must look like he’s embarrassed by the praise. 

“Dude’s a spy, what did we expect?” Sam’s smooth voice interrupts Bucky’s wandering thoughts. He sits next to Steve and now Bucky has two holograms emanating from his palm. He looks as if he’s been on the run, of course, but he too carries it well. The stress seems to have rolled off like water off a duck’s back. Bucky admires the way he takes things in stride. “We heard you’re out there _killin’_ it. High kicking your way into the Dora Milaje, saving little girls’ lives, even got ‘em calling you an ‘adopted son’. True?”

So, they’ve been keeping _close_ tabs on him. _Always worried about me like my Ma, Steve._

“If I tell you it’s all true,” Bucky sighs patiently, “will you find an off switch and use it?”

“Good to see you too, asshole.” Sam grins, easily falling back into their semi-contentious banter. “Seriously, though, the whole _‘Dances With Wolves’_ look suits you, man.”

Bucky has no idea what he’s referring to aside from his adoptive name, but accepts the compliment with a smile. “Thanks. And yeah, it is good to see you. Jackass.”

“His sense of humor has been restored!” Sam applauds him.

“It’s okay to be proud, Buck,” Steve reassures Bucky seriously, grinning with Sam. “Compared to where you were this time last year, your progress is something to celebrate.”

Bucky is silent. Maybe so, but there are more obstacles in play now than his mind, which is enough all by itself. He decides to focus the conversation on innocuous things. Building his home. His friendship with N’Yuna. The food and gifts the villagers bring him. How good it feels doing odd jobs in the heat and laying back in his hammock watching the stars at night. The peace and quiet. The hard work. A simple life that he never thought he’d get to have.

“Last week one of the elders let me help her deliver a baby goat. Named ‘im after me, too,” he tells them wistfully, realizing he desperately wants to hold Shuri under this tree one day and tell her this story. “It was just a little thing. A simple thing. But it was really nice.”

He’s so grateful he can hardly find the words, but they understand. They’re happy for him, Bucky can tell. After a few more rounds of simple stories about the village, training with the Dora and even Olla’s wicked ways, he inquires about their wellbeing, gently probing them on any semblance of a plan. They can’t run forever. Sooner or later they will have to face Ross, Stark and all the forces turning against them. So will he. 

“It’s been tough, but we’re making it through alright. We’re forming a plan, don’t worry. Until then...” Steve takes a deep breath and exchanges looks with Sam.

Sam shrugs. “You how we do. Never stay in one place too long. Watch each other’s backs. Keep it low key. Keep it moving.”

“Sounds about right.” Bucky nods, empathising with them; in a way wishing he could be out there watching their backs, too. “Nat and the others?”

“They’re a bit more complicated to get into, but safe, for the most part.”

It’s all Bucky needs to know. He trusts they know what they’re doing. He is supposed to be where he is and they won’t stop until they find their place in the world. No matter how long it takes. It’s easy to forget when one is caught up in a tornado of self-doubt. They are _all_ survivors. 

“Hey, now,” Steve insists, reading Bucky’s silence, “don’t worry about us, pal. Just keep working on getting yourself to where you need to be. Listen to the princess. I hear she’s the head authority on the matter.”

Steve is joking, but Bucky wishes he could tell him just how right he is. Just how besotted he is with Wakanda’s Precious Jewel and how her presence alone has been healing to him.

He wishes he could tell them about the first time he heard her sweet voice, saw her bright face. At a time when he felt so low he actually wanted to die, she was his angel. He wants to tell them how because of her grace, he closed his eyes to cryosleep for the first time with hope and something like peace of mind. And every time he sees her to this day, his attachment to her grows stronger. He wants to gush about how kind and brilliant she is, how good she is to him and her people, how her belief in him draws him to her like Icarus to the Sun. How it all makes him panic if he thinks about it too much, especially alone at night longing to feel her beside him. He wants to talk about her vision, her faith in him and their destiny together. About how it spurs him on, keeps him focused and _believing_ in a better life for himself. But he can’t tell them all this. They wouldn’t understand right now. He wouldn’t even be able to articulate himself with the right words. They would only tell him what he doesn’t want to hear right now. It’s selfish, but it’s how he feels.

“ _That_ rebellious youngin’ is in charge of your recovery?” Sam inquires skeptically, breaking through his thoughts once again.

“Have you not heard of Princess Shuri?” Steve counters. “She may be young, but I’ve seen what she can do.”

“I know who she is.” Sam rolls his eyes, but Bucky, for one, isn’t joking. “Come on, though, she looks like a pre-teen! Shouldn’t a princess her age be obsessed with K-Pop and Tik Tok-ing all over the place, not curing hundred-year-old super assassins?”

“She’s the same age me and Steve were when we signed up to go to war,” Bucky can’t help having his ire spiked a little, even as he tries to take Sam’s faux ignorance in stride. “Anyway, she’s not that kinda princess. She’s the real deal, Sam. Trust me, HYDRA’s got nothin’ on her. Her therapy works so far. That’s all I need to know. I trust her.”

“Aiight. Fair enough...” Sam studies him quietly, a moment of inexplicable (on their end, anyway) tension passing between them. “If it’s working for you, keep doing it. I trust what you trust.”

Bucky softens, wary of giving himself away. Neither of them could possibly understand just how much the ‘rebellious young thing’ they’re discussing has come to mean to him. “I know you do.”

Steve signals for the Falcon to give them some privacy. Sam silently acknowledges that the two ancient friends want to wrap their conversation up without him.

“Glad you’re more at peace, dude. No more wiggin’ out, okay?”

“Last thing I wanna do. Thanks, Sam. Take care of yourself.” Sam smiles warmly before disappearing from the hologram. 

There’s a bit of a pause in which Steve makes sure Sam’s out of earshot. “You know Sam means well. He grows on you, I promise. ”

“Nah, it’s not him.” Bucky offers a sad smile, admitting: “To tell you the truth, I kinda miss him takin’ the piss. Kinda reminds of…”

“The guys...” Steve finishes, his eyes zeroing in on Bucky’s dog tags. He doesn’t ask where they came from. And they don’t have to name names. They’re thinking of the same seven men who carried them both through the worst and most fantastical, stressful, pivotal challenges of their duties in the war. All the while remaining jovial, tough, loyal, and brave. The Commandos. 

“Yeah.” Bucky grows wistful, remembering their faces. Hellish, arctic landscapes and endless enemy fire. But also deeply felt comradery. He grasps his dog tags, a gift from his Sunshine. Steve notices. “Replica,” he confirms quietly but stops just there, not wishing to lie. 

“What’s on your mind, Buck? Last chance for a while…” Steve interrupts his revelry, giving his old pal a firm nod of reassurance. “You talk, I’ll listen.”

Bucky wonders how truthful he can be about what’s really on his mind night and day. His secret intention to continue falling in love with the Princess of Wakanda despite every potential obstacle already lining up against them.

Maybe he can tell a part of the truth. Maybe that’ll be enough for Steve to understand his feelings without judgement. By way of explanation, he decides to continue their trip down memory lane. “You remember how girl crazy I was before the war?”

Steve tilts his head, his face softening with wistfulness. “Like you had something to prove.” He smiles fondly. “How could I forget? I was your shadow on plenty of those dates.”

Bucky always tried to include his skinny, awkward pal whenever he was entertaining girls with single friends and the situation was feasible. But Steve never had much luck and nothing Bucky did could make his own charm rub off enough to get the kid some action.

“Well, you know how different it was for me after you pulled me outta that HYDRA camp.” He swallows, remembering flashes and echoes here and there. “I tried to put on like I was still fine chasin’ dames after what happened to me, but you saw right through that.

“Made me tell you what I truly wanted. What I was _really_ looking for.”

A lifetime of friendship passes silently between them. 

“ _‘A girl to come back home to’_ ,” Steve quotes, remembering, “... _‘someone to cherish forever’._ ”

Bucky finds himself tearing at the grass beneath his feet with his vibranium fingers. “What if…” he sighs and gets on with it, “what if I still want that? Even now, after everything?”

“Then I’d say there’s nothing wrong with wanting that,” Steve offers optimistically, though still choosing his words carefully. “And I’d ask if there’s someone special making you feel this way?”

“What if there is?” It takes effort for Bucky to say it as though it’s not really as big a deal as it truly is. Steve sees right through this, of course.

“Hypothetically, Buck? Or for real?”

He doesn’t answer. Thankfully, Steve doesn’t push for anything Bucky feels compelled to outright lie about. Though he _does_ glean the little bit of the truth that matters right now.

“You mean you don’t wanna tell me who she is, yet.”

More silence. Steve reads into the hesitation.

“So it’s still new.”

“Yeah, you could say that. But it already feels like I’ve known her forever.”

“Wow. I guess you really are making progress if you’re lovesick already.”

“It’s not like that, Steve. I need some real advice.”

“Okay, okay, Buck. I’m just a little surprised, to be honest.” Steve is always honest. That’s what Bucky is counting on. Even if he can’t tell his friend the whole truth, their lifelong brotherhood is embedded deep enough for whatever he offers to be meaningful. That’s all Bucky needs. 

“Look, all I can tell you is this is _different_. The same kinda different it was for you with Peggy.”

Steve lets this sink in. The mention of Peggy gives him pause, that’s for sure. He takes a deep breath and gives his earnest answer. “I won’t pretend to know exactly what you’re feeling right now, especially with you being so cryptic,” he pauses to give his pal another chance to clarify any details, but Bucky just can’t risk exposing Shuri. Not now. Not even for Steve. His friend wisely moves on, though Bucky can tell he will be thinking about this, and he might very well figure it out. He will deal with that later. For now, Steve simply does his level, honest best to encourage his friend despite his caution. “I know what it’s like to hold your heart in your hands, waiting for the day you get to give it to the one person you know will keep it safe.

“It probably feels like you'll never stop waiting. But, Bucky, you might have to. If this woman means to you what you say she does, then the Bucky I know will use those feelings as motivation to do the right thing. Every time. You’ll wait until you’re _clear_. Then...follow your heart.”

Bucky sighs, taking a deep breath. _The Bucky I know. Wait until you’re clear, then follow your heart._

Everything in his being wants to be with Shuri _now_ , but he must be careful and realistic. Steve is right. Hopefully, he can achieve some balance. Shuri certainly believes they can.

“Thanks, Steve,” he replies, smiling softly. “I hear you.”

“I really am proud of you, Buck.” Steve smiles warmly. “Maybe I’ll get to meet this special someone one of these days?”

Bucky finds himself sincerely hoping so. “Maybe.” He takes stock of the time. The royal party will be back from the village soon. If Shuri was right, the hour is almost up before they tire of drinking and talking politics and seek to return to their palace. “I should go.”

“I don’t know when we’ll be able to talk again…”

“Understood. It was really good to see you.”

“You too, pal. Try not to be a heartbreaker, huh?”

“Shut up. Goodnight.”

Once he shuts down the hologram his keen hearing picks up footsteps, light and agile, not too far a distance away behind the tree. He turns, thinking (hoping, irrationally) it’s Shuri coming back to steal a few more minutes alone before they have to part again for who knows how long.

It isn’t Shuri, he discovers as he gets to his feet and walks around the thick, twisted tree trunk. 

It’s N’Yuna, squinting into the darkness to find his figure, following his (and Shuri’s) footsteps in the dirt. It’s a good thing it’s pretty dark on his side of the tree, or she might glimpse the waning results of Shuri’s affect on him. He is and he isn’t surprised to see her, though he is wary that the royals are following close behind. But, she’s alone.

“Ingcuka? What are you up to out here all by yourself?”

He shrugs, tossing the grass still caught in his fingers. “Talking to an old friend of mine.” He doesn’t see the need to hide that from her. “The princess arranged it for me.”

“Ah,” N’Yuna’s eyes sparkle as she comes to a stop near the tree, reaching out to stroke the bark with her fingers. She gazes over at him with a probing gleam in her eyes. “She was just singing your praises. She’s quite fond of you.”

He can’t think of a response. He merely nods, wondering what Shuri must’ve said about him.

“I’m not surprised, though...you’re a charmer when you aren’t being all sullen and silent.” N’Yuna continues, teasing him instead of letting on that she’s disappointed in his lack of response. She moves ever closer. “My Umama won’t even hush about how handsome you are. Dancing with you tonight was quite a thrill for her, you have no idea.”

He laughs awkwardly, lowering his gaze, wary of Shuri or anyone else happening upon them.

“Are you sure you’re alright, Ingcuka? I know this was all a bit...overwhelming.” She crosses to close the distance between them. Touches his arm, her favorite place to connect with him and pull him out of his dark thoughts.

Gazing into her caring eyes, he feels the need to reassure her. “I’m good. Really, ‘Yuna. I can’t thank you enough for tonight”

“Don’t thank me, silly man. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

“Yes, ma’am…” he gives her a smile, squeezes her hand, and puts distance between them. 

She doesn’t move to close it again, thankfully. “You won’t come say goodnight?”

“Mind passing along my thanks?” he asks, a good, long night run calling to him. “I might go for a run…clear my head.”

"Of course." She raises an eyebrow, distracted and intrigued by this activity she’s never heard him mention before. “A run sounds quite nice, actually.”

He pauses, sensing a challenge in her demeanor. “How fast are you?”

She scoffs, crossing her arms. “Try me.”

He is curious, especially having seen what she is capable of in battle. She could last a while keeping up with him, he thinks. And she always enjoys their little physical challenges. She knows how strong he is but she is always trying to test him; always testing herself by competing with him. Just like a sister. “Maybe I'll race ya sometime?”

“I'll hold you to it, old man.” She understands, he wishes to be alone, giving him a nod and a wink. 

“What happened to ‘scrappy young mutt’...?”

N'Yuna doesn't answer, backing away to return to the party. Bucky gives her a head start, then turns his own way and takes off into the dark. As he flies through the brush, he doesn't think, he just runs. It’s nice. It helps him forget his anxiety. 

_The Bucky I know would do the right thing,_ Steve said, _make sure you’re clear...then follow your heart._

He wants to believe he’s certain ‘the Bucky Steve knows’ is still inside him, but for now he makes it his firm intention to take his old pal’s advice and follow his heart.

It just so happens his heart is back in the village, firmly cradled in the petit hands of one gorgeous, genius, alluring young princess. 

He can’t think of anywhere else he wants it to be.

* * *

**_TWO WEEKS LATER…_ **

* * *

  
  


There’s chatter in the village that the king and princess have returned from America.

He still hasn’t heard from Sunshine. He doesn’t want to pester her, but it’s hard.

Perhaps that’s what’s distracting Bucky so much as he hauls bails of hay into a pile with one arm (he chose to keep his vibranium arm clean and shined inside today, just in case). 

He wants to see her. He likely won’t get to, though. Not until she decides, or someone else does. It could be more days from now. Weeks. Who knows? 

He has to wait. He can’t complain. He has no say. Still, _he misses her like crazy._ He hasn’t slept very well the last few nights, longing for her petite body next to his. Longing to hear her voice.

Dr. Nandi sits on his small stool under his tree, watching him patiently. She recognizes he’s in one of his moods. They stalled into peaceful silence when he answered the relatively innocuous ‘how are you feeling?’ once she arrived for their session with a simple ‘good’. 

It’s the truth. He loves his home and he’s become settled into his role in Yeda. The vibranium-armed white man; master of all trades; adopted son who speaks little and works hard without complaint. It reminds him of his youth. A ‘Jack of All Trades’ who signed up for the war with his chin held high and enough vigor to make Brooklyn proud. He takes his place here just as seriously. Now his mind wades through memories of the last couple of weeks. His time with Sunshine and the intimate talk he had with Steve and Sam chief among them. His friendship with N’Yuna. Being alone with his thoughts in the wilds, surviving on what the land provided him. 

Too many things to explain in simple words.

Dr. Nandi smiles, weaving a blanket for one of the villagers to sell at the River Market as she watches him work. “A lot on your mind today, James?” 

Bucky pauses to glance at her before leaning down to gather up one of the last of the hay bails. He nods, always wanting to try with her. Shuri put a lot of time into finding her for him and she’s been a tremendous help so far. The sun beats down on them, finding its way to them through cracks in the shade of the tree. His hair falls into his eyes as he creates a neat hay pile to haul away later. Once done, he saunters over to the river’s edge to scoop up a cool handful of water and let it flow down his neck, wetting his hair. “Sorry. Don’t know where to start.”

“What are you thinking of, now? Start there.”

He gives her a slow smile. Not so simple. He’s thinking of what he’s always thinking about. Sunshine. Still, he has to try. The Doc often reminds him of his mother coaxing his true feelings from him with a smile and no fuss. Even when he thinks he can’t find the words.

Bucky sits atop Shuri’s jutting root, squinting up at Dr. Nandi on the stool. He’ll start with something true and harmless.

“Adoption ritual was good. Kinda intense.” _But it’s one step closer, I hope._

“Oh?” the Doc prods gently, her hands pausing their furious weaving. “Tell me.” 

He can be honest with her about this part. He begins to recount his time in the wilds. The morning of the ceremony, he woke just before dawn, the chill wafting off the river creeping under his door and into his bed. He ate a simple breakfast of grits, eggs, and bread, and wrapped himself in the tribal blanket the elders provided him. He met the chief and four other boys from the village, ranging around thirteen to sixteen, all of them having been circumcised that morning before this meeting. The chief painted their faces, said a prayer to the ancestors, and pointed in the directions to which they must travel. The others looked nervously at Bucky. He tried to give them his silent reassurance before turning to march out into the wilderness alone.

“I’ve never experienced quiet like this, Doc,” he explains, remembering the six days he spent alone out there with his thoughts vividly. “Made my thoughts much louder, but more...I don’t know...clarifying? Not all tangled up like usual.”

The sunrises were some of the most beautiful he’s ever seen, even moreso than the ones he’s experienced since he’s been here so far, for whatever reason. During the daylight hours, he woke early, went out and gathered what he could for food, hunting silently in the brush. Birds, fish and small animals gave him meat, paired with plants he foraged. He came across wild dogs, fed them scraps, and listened to them howl at night. Not many big predators in this area. Though the importance of these smaller predators to an ecosystem this complex was not lost on him as he made his way through the lands. Once in a while he saw signs of the other young men, his brothers now, out there with him. They left each other messages as they tracked each other round and round the wilds but never crossed paths directly. He could push his longing to the back of his mind during the day, focus on feeding and protecting himself; on learning to commune with the land. His talk with Steve got stuck on replay in his mind, as did visions of his past, his demons. His plans and hopes. 

In the evenings, however, the memories he’s made with Shuri so far stayed with him all night.

She invaded his thoughts like one of those gorgeous wild sunrises, her bright smile blocking out all darkness. He was inundated with visions of her pursed honey lips and soft, kitten-like moans when she allowed him to kneel before her and taste the tangy-sweet delicacy between her legs. 

Almost real in his mind, as vivid as the vision he had in the lake. The scent and texture of her. The firecracker-like intensity of her. Her tenderness that surrendered to his strong tongue without resistance. Payback for that bright, mischievous smile and teasing him about behaving like a jealous boyfriend in front of everyone...but also tender, loving care, in as intimate a way he could think to show it. On his knees, grateful, humbled, awed and inspired. 

This imagery danced for him in the stars as he lay awake, swirled in his mind like a fever dream, heating his body, making him hard. In those stars, he counted a thousand ways he could please her, draw out those sweet little moans and more, if she’d let him. If he were allowed. If he hasn’t broken some kind of law already, what he imagines could get him executed in some countries. He lost the war with his self restraint in the wilds, jerking himself off so he could sleep, the thoughts were so intense. Out there away from the village, the guilt didn’t affect him as much. 

He let himself fantasize. He let himself get carried away thinking about Sunshine. He even let himself wish he could just...take her. Run away with her. He is skilled enough at being on the run and he knows people all over the world who wouldn’t ask him a single question or say a word. But that is selfish, _dangerous_ thinking. It’s a broken mind clinging desperately to the brightest thing that exists in a world of darkness. At least, that’s how it feels now that he’s back home with the Doc gazing at him innocuously.

Besides, T’Challa would hunt them down and grant his death wish from before, there is no doubt in Bucky’s mind about that. Not even the Winter Soldier could outrun a protective brother who also happens to be the Black Panther. And Shuri may be convinced that they’re destined to run together forever, but her light would dim if he took her away from her world, her people, her mother...so he left that thinking in the wilds, buried in ash with the remains of his camp fire.

Bucky sits now on the jutting tree root, trying to find the words. Dr. Nandi waits patiently. 

“I couldn’t sleep, thinking about...the trust everyone’s putting in me,” he hedges, swallowing hard to rid himself of the dark thoughts beginning to invade his mind. “I know you said all anyone expects is for me to try, but, uh,” he chuckles, shaking his head as he pulls up a clump of some grass by its roots, “turns out trying is still pretty complicated.”

“How so?” Nandi asks, not looking up from her work; her tone almost cheerful.

“The Dora told me I’d fall in love with it here. They were right. It’s scary how much I love this place.” Downright terrifying some nights, how deeply his affection for Wakanda, and Sunshine, has buried its hooks into him. “I don’t just want to be here. I _need_ to be.”

“That all sounds good. But you still don’t believe you _deserve_ to be. Why?”

Yet again, he thinks of Sunshine. 

He cannot stop wanting what he shouldn’t have. He can’t stop counting the days, the hours, the seconds until the moment he gets to see or hear from her again. He hopes she’s still with him, still wanting him, even though he risks booking himself a one-way ticket to a box in Raft prison by even touching her. He’s taken too much. He wants more. The peace he found and the home he built here should be more than enough, but there remains a nearly all-consuming desire he can’t shake. 

He can’t talk about this with the Doc without getting them both in hot water, but he has to give her _something_. He needs her help to sort out his thoughts. Bucky takes a deep breath and tries to tell the truth without the details. “I’m just worried I’m getting too comfortable. Too...attached. Wanting too much.”

“Don’t you think ‘wanting’ is exactly what you _should_ do? To have personal goals based on your own desires, not HYDRA’s?” She counters his question with more, deft at this game. The Doc sighs and lets her pile of thread rest in her lap. “Where do you think you are?” He tilts his head, taken aback. “Hm…” she nods, clicking her tongue at him. “Well, let me remind you. You are in one of the most technologically advanced and secure nations _on Earth_. 

“And _I_ am here because we _know_ who you used to be. We are making it our personal responsibility to reform you, as decreed by our king and the elders. Trust me, if we need to put you in your place, we are _more than capable_ , Ingcuka.”

Bucky sits up straight, hanging on her every word. 

“You say you have fallen in love with Wakanda? Our land, our beliefs...our people?”

“Especially the people.” He thinks of Sunshine, sweet as cherry Coke, kissing him eagerly, giggling and shivering from his touch, gazing up at him like an adoring angel in his arms.

He has to stop thinking that way immediately, though, because he gets hard at the drop of a hat these days, he misses her so much. He dutifully refocuses on the Doc’s words.

“Well, my friend, love takes courage. Sacrifice! _Selflessness_ . Why not try _acting_ like a man in love? Protect what’s dear to you. If that is Wakanda, then act like it. 

“Being respected nationwide for your loyalty to the throne is a grand goal to aspire to, and you’re already off to a good start.”

Dr. Nandi returns to her weaving as if that settles things. If only she knew the hidden context of what she’s telling him. Bucky looks off at his home in the distance, contemplating. He waves at one of the herders who is strolling along, urging a gaggle of goats in from the village to graze at the scattered hay piles he hasn’t cleaned up yet. He doesn’t see the one he helped deliver out with the big guys yet, but he’ll make a point to go visit him today. He loves it when Bucky feeds him. He makes himself at home on his chest and often falls asleep there. 

“What else?” Dr. Nandi prods him on, bringing his attention back to her. He sighs and thinks. 

“I had a pretty swell talk with Steve. Rogers,” he clarifies, glancing at her to make sure she knows who he means. “Didn’t realize I missed ‘im so much. Sam, too, I guess.”

“Oh, Captain America! Tell me.”

“Ha, not Captain America anymore, I don’t think. Still the same old Steve, though…”

He starts recounting what he can of his talk with Steve and Sam, barring their exact circumstances and his side conversation with Steve about falling for someone.

He’s interrupted, however, by a strong wind that begins to pick up off the horizon. They both turn to gaze up at the bright sky, spotting a Royal Talon swooping in gracefully to land some yards away beyond his tree.

Bucky stands as Dr. Nandi lifts her hands to shield her eyes while the breeze settles. The Talon’s catwalk begins to unfold from the body of the ship and a small group of Dora Milaje make their way down onto the grass, led by General Okoye.

His mind immediately swings back toward Shuri as he watches the Dora approach. The general keeps him in her sights, her expression innocuous. They offer the Wakandan salute as they come to a stop just beyond the tree, all four of them familiar to him; sparring partners he saw just a couple of days ago. This visit is very official, however. He dares to hope it means he’ll finally get to see Sunshine.

“Ingcuka,” Okoye begins in greeting, smiling warmly at Dr. Nandi. “Dr. Mbizu…”

“ _Mholo_ , General,” The Doc greets cheerfully. “What brings you out here on such a hot afternoon?”

“Business of the Royal Council,” Okoye nods at Bucky, causing him to stand at attention. “The king requests your presence, as soon as possible. It is time to vote on your asylum, Ingcuka.”

Bucky nods, dutifully. He won’t dare ask if he’ll see the princess during the Council meeting. He has to wait. He has no control. He’ll do the right thing and just hope he gets a few minutes’ glimpse of her in all the ceremony. That has to be enough.

He accepts a squeeze of encouragement on his flesh hand from the Doc and treks back to his home to get cleaned up and attach his vibranium arm.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: We are heading for steamier pastures. Bucky will get his wish to "take her away" but not in the way he would ever dream up. We'll be returning to Shuri POV, get T'Challa's take, and finish B's triggers off. But then tuck in b/c I have some big fat steamy WinterPrincess scenes in store for you that I cannot waaaait to share.  
> -MM


	14. The Long Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> T'Challa and Shuri have a heart to heart on their way home. In the span of a single conversation, the stakes are raised exponentially in all three of their lives--the king, the princess, and her guardian, the White Wolf.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAPPY (FINALLY) 2021!! 
> 
> This is the first a few I finished over the holidays, uploading as I put final touches (I am an editing beast, I'm sure I've re-read and tweaked these 1000 times haha). I admit I am having a lot of fun with the 'political intrigue' in this. I am no Shonda Rhymes, but it's my fantasy and I'll mystery plot if I wanna?

The King’s Royal Talon is quiet the morning T’Challa and Shuri leave Oakland for home. 

T’Challa sits at his sand table playing chess with the A.I. Really, he is staring past the board, watching his sister. He wonders what their father would think to see them now. It’s been a learning experience for them both. 

She’s having to learn that being a genius engineer is a completely different skill set to being able to get anything done inside the political arena. Just as he is still learning that sometimes in politics even winning nets grim losses, despite one’s efforts. 

They’ve opened a school, a research lab for Shuri to screen young hopefuls interested in one day studying abroad in Wakanda, and have broken ground on what will soon be a library dedicated to their late uncle, N’Jobu--only a few of the initiatives they hope to take on here. There’s much more to be done. Shuri, for one, wants to tackle hunger and poverty in ways that no one has ever done before. They’ve been lobbying together at the U.N. so empathetic power players can take up programs like the one she started with Baba in Legos in areas of concern across the globe. 

They’ve had to tread carefully, T’Challa bracing Wakanda for skepticism, opportunism, and double the scrutiny on the world stage after a history of being seen as merely a poor farming country. There’s also their newly finished plans to increase their presence and humanitarianism where they are able in Africa on what will be Shuri’s first official royal tour on her own. 

These are just the light lessons. The easy wins. It’s a lot, and it’s been happening fast.

T’Challa knows, however, that the challenges they’ll face will only get bigger, more complicated.

They already have, in fact. 

Peace, balance, prosperity...those things come with a price. Baba understood this perhaps more than anyone.  _ You’re a good man with a good heart, and it’s hard for a good man to be king. _

For her part, Shuri’s mind is racing, as usual. Front and center is her pride in the work they’re doing. She hasn’t been able to see or talk to Bucky, though, the other thing on her mind. They’ve been so busy and there was no way to contact him the week he spent in isolation. She can’t wait to hear how it went for him. She can’t wait to simply see him again. She’s been planning. Once she’s back home, they’ll squeeze in more sessions and negotiate Bucky’s asylum in earnest with the Royal Tribal Council. If they accept him, Shuri will start to put her plan into action. A way for them to spend time together without arousing too much suspicion...she hopes.

She’s always thinking of him. The night of the feast in particular. She’d been anticipating kissing him for months and he did not disappoint. His kisses are all at once tender, assertive, intense. After so long of being apart, her attraction to him confronted her without mercy the moment she was in his presence again. Especially those vulnerable eyes of his, always following her around. Even when she couldn’t see them, she felt them.  _ And Bast, how sexy he looked kneeling between her legs under his tree.  _ She didn’t dare tell him it was her first time letting a man do any such thing. She’s fantasized about it many times before, but the real thing was far better than any fantasy. The thought of seeing him again now keeps Shuri distracted and on the verge of shivering more often than she’d like for anyone to notice. She thinks she’s done a pretty good job keeping so busy, doing her part while also keeping her rapidly intensifying feelings for him a guarded secret.

Her brother does see that she’s been growing into quite the lobbyist, but he isn’t as easily fooled as everyone else. The freshman king watches the princess hum and sketch in her kimoyo journal, her legs tucked beneath her, her wireless headphones cushioned into her braids. He’s never seen her so aglow with conviction, determination, _faith_ \--and something else. Some place she goes in her mind, more and more of late. She’s there now. He has a strong suspicion about where. Or more accurately, _with_ _whom_. The question is what he intends to do about it. Perhaps, he is thinking, it can be used to Wakanda’s advantage. 

“What are you thinking so loudly over there, brother?” He is caught in the act.

Shuri pauses her music and turns off her kimoyo beads, abandoning her sketch. T’Challa moves from behind the veil of his folded fingers, leaning forward to carefully replace his rook. 

“Everything we still have left to accomplish, you and I.” He waves his beads. The black sand pools flat and rises again, resetting the board for a new game. “Join me? I hate playing alone.

She nods, getting up from her comfy position to sit across the table from him. 

“I thought I hated politics before, but these days...” he doesn’t finish. Shuri can guess. Every decision has a consequence for their people. That is a monumental burden for someone as introspective as T’Challa. He picks up his first piece and moves it forward. “I must continue relying on you far more than we both know Umama will like. We’ll need to work together to keep her reassured.” 

“Whatever you need.” Shuri makes a spontaneous move with her white pawn. 

After an entirely too long interval, T’Challa counters.  _ Honesty, to start _ , he thinks, still formulating the right words to express this without making her defensive. Though that may not be possible, knowing headstrong Shuri. 

They play on for a while. He’s moving extra slow for some reason. Shuri doesn’t like the way he’s hesitating. There’s definitely something he’s dwelling on but isn’t saying. 

“Oh, make a move already,” she huffs, folding her arms to lean her chin on her hand, bored. 

T’Challa chuckles. Shuri never really had the patience for chess. She likes to play fast, letting her intuition guide her. He likes to take his time, thinking several moves ahead if he can. This is their chess game  _ and _ their approach to life, one could surmise. Over the years, they’ve gotten pretty good at meeting in the middle. So far. Instead of complying, he says the thing she doesn’t want to hear. “You’re only nineteen in a few days. Are you  _ sure _ you’re ready for the burden of being Wakanda’s weapons master, royal ambassador, lead engineer,  _ and _ Barnes’ spiritual guide?”

“I’ve been doing half of those things since I was a child, brother.”

“That’s exactly my point. When’s the last time you went out just to have fun?” 

“We went out to that amazing sushi place last night with Everett and those crazy heiresses.  _ That _ was fun.” She’s being stubborn, as he expected.

“That was diplomacy, not pleasure.” T’Challa groans. “I meant the last time you saw your close friends? Or took time to make new ones?”

“So our mother has gotten to you.” He knows perfectly well that she can count her ‘close friends’ on one hand, with plenty of fingers to spare. Besides, the last woman her age she was getting closer to was killed by their militant cousin doing her duty, as everyone is always telling Shuri that she must. She hasn’t spoken much of it to anyone except Bucky, but she still hasn’t quite recovered from Naija’s murder. “I thought you trusted me?”

“I do.” 

He prods her to make another move, but she ignores the match for a moment. Suspecting their mother is speaking through him at least a bit. Seeing an opportunity. “What if I have a way to maximize my time moving forward? Would you and ‘Mama get off my case, then?”

“I’m listening.” 

“Think of it as an early birthday gift to your  _ amazing _ sister.”

“I cannot wait to hear what I’ll be getting you.” He’s so smug, and it’s so annoying.

“I want Ingcuka...to serve as my personal guard. And for it to count toward his citizenship.” 

Shuri makes a move with her knight on the sand board, saving herself from danger. Her big brother seems intrigued, making a move to corner her again without even looking. “Go on.”

She quickly runs through a mental list of all the reasons she wants this. First and foremost, despite her family’s fears about burning herself out, she’s becoming more restless the closer she gets to nineteen. She felt it especially here, getting to know fascinating, talented, passionate young people from N’Jadaka’s home. Though she loves  _ her _ home with all her heart, their isolationist ways have kept her hovering on the periphery of freedom, discovery, indulgence. Only nineteen to her big brother, but for Shuri, womanhood is at her doorstep. She wants to grab it with both hands and lift off. 

She realizes the people of greater Africa don’t even know her. Not as she’d like them to. She wants the people to stop seeing her as a naive, pampered royal. She is a serious humanitarian and fierce future leader, for starters, and so much more. She isn’t made of glass. It’s time everyone stopped treating her as if she’ll break under the lightest pressure. 

And even though he never seems to tire of listening to her talk about her work, dreams and big ideas, she fears that Bucky may only see her as ‘the genius teen princess’, as well. She wants to change that, desperately. She wants him to see her as a woman. One with dimension and needs she has chosen  _ him _ to satisfy.

This tour, away from T’Challa and the Queen Mother’s scrutiny, is her chance to assert herself, her independence,  _ and _ (hopefully, if Bucky will stop hesitating and let her) her womanhood. 

“I’ll finish removing his triggers when we return. All of them. Then, he’ll accompany me on tour. We only have so many Dora to spare with everything going on. I’ll need someone who never leaves my side and can take on an army alone if it comes to it. 

“I’ll invite some ‘close friends’ as well, if it’ll make you and ‘Mama happy.”

She has few candidates, especially when it comes to keeping her and Bucky’s secret, but she’ll figure it out. She tosses in a bit of flattery to hopefully seal the deal.

“You’re right. I  _ should _ balance my work with more fun, but I can’t do that if I end up on lockdown again. This way, we all get what we want.” 

T’Challa doesn’t seem surprised or particularly resistant to the idea. He’s considering her, nodding in silence for her to keep going. Quite the lobbyist, indeed.

“When I’m done with him, I believe Bucky will be the best guardian for me. I want to become my own kind of leader, T’Challa. I’ll need my freedom to do that and I think I’ve earned it.

“Anyway, think of the optics, hm? We all need to look like we’re advanced enough and strong enough to handle ourselves while we’re opening our borders to a ‘world full of political landmines’ as you keep telling me.” 

She imitates his stern ‘the king has spoken’ voice in an overly robotic manner, but he merely shakes his head at her teasing. “Bast, you sound like Nakia.” 

He doesn’t say anything more for a few turns, forcing her to concentrate on the match again. He refuses to speed up for her, testing her patience while he ruminates on her proposal. Out of frustration, she forces him into an impassable corner and wins the match before tossing out one last reason to believe. 

“If it goes well, couldn’t it go a long way to convince the Americans to stop seeing him as a threat, at least?”

“That’s a big ‘if’, Shuri. They’re still hunting Rogers, after all. And...” T’Challa sighs and stands, walking toward the front of the Talon to watch the clouds rushing past them. “I haven’t even convinced the Council to allow Barnes a place in the River Tribe, yet. It was a delicious feast, but without the Council’s approval, we both know his adoption is still only symbolic.”

Shuri already knows, but still feels disappointed. She has a hunch Bucky is aware of it, too. It would partially explain his prolonged anxiety about his chances of screwing things up.

“Doesn’t the chief’s word count in their decision?”

“It counts as proof that he can be trusted fishing and farming in a small village. Sending him across the continent with personal access to Wakanda’s youngest heir would be pushing the limits of our leniency, don’t you think?”

“Maybe if we couldn’t reform him. But you know  _ I can _ . We convinced the elders, we can convince the Council.” 

Shuri stands to walk over and join him. He turns his head slightly to acknowledge her. 

“But there is something more,  _ ilanga _ . After so long of being such an enthusiastic skeptic,  _ why _ are you so determined to be the spiritual guide of a man you hardly knew four months ago?”

_ What’s changed your faith since Baba’s death,  _ his eyes ask. For one terrifying moment, Shuri is convinced that he can see it. The ‘something more’. That he’s  _ been _ seeing it, just like the Queen Mother saw it from a mile away. T’Challa says nothing. He waits to see what she will tell him. 

“I just want to help him, T’Challa,” she chooses only to tell part of the truth. At first he is disappointed, but she follows up with something that gives him pause. “Don’t you think that if Baba had made a different choice, N’Jadaka would be alive and on our side today?”

Her older brother controls his expression, but she is confident that deflecting his attention is a lot better than having to lie. “It’s why I agreed to shelter him in Wakanda in the first place.”

“Have you changed your mind about letting Everett send him to Raft, then?”

“Neither of us believe he belongs there.” He gives her an aggravatingly patient look. 

“Well, then what is it?” 

T’Challa weighs his options. Last night was diplomacy for Shuri and the twin heiresses, but for Everett and T’Challa, it became the setting for the special agent to call in a favor. If Barnes ended up under the ocean, it wouldn’t be to serve a life sentence, though it may be as a response to the intel Everett shared with T’Challa over sake.  _ I think you need Barnes on this one. Assuming the princess delivers on her promise and he can be trusted. _

“Hey...Earth to T’Challa…?” Shuri’s impatient tone brings him out of his memory.

His sister is young and headstrong, but reliable. Whenever he needs her, she comes through. He trusts they can work together to achieve their common goal: seeing Barnes fully reformed. He decides to be a bit more open. 

“I’ve been pursuing a potential threat. Without the Council’s knowledge. Agent Ross shared some intelligence last night that worries me.”

Shuri hangs on his every word. “What threat, T’Challa?”

“It’s too soon to say. No one can know.” His voice grows dark and very guarded. “But, soon I may require the services of someone highly skilled at being invisible. Someone I can trust.” 

Shuri’s chest feels tight. He means he needs someone with enough on the line; enough to lose; to be unconditionally loyal. Someone like Bucky.

“Brother...you’re scaring me.” 

He gives her cheek a reassuring caress. “It’s not for you to worry about, Shuri. Just know that I agree, we need Barnes fully rehabilitated. Provided your focus is still on healing him.”

“Yes, but what else are you asking?” Her pounding heart threatens her tight chest as she stares up at her brother, the peaceful atmosphere of the flight giving way to a much more serious one.

“As it turns out, your tour isn’t a bad cover for some of the work I will need Barnes for. So, I suppose I am saying  _ ‘yes, with conditions.’ _ ”

_ Shit. _ She’s gone and gotten Bucky into something he may not even want to be involved in, just to satisfy her selfish desire to spend more time alone with him.

“He’ll still have to face the Council and complete your therapy.” He can see her mind working, trying to think of a way to manage what he’s just placed at her feet. “Isn’t this what you took from your vision? When you said he was to serve as Wakanda’s loyal guardian?”

“I saw him help us overcome many threats.”

“Then, it’s time he took his place. For the Council, your tour will be enough. But for the greater good of Wakanda, this mission will be  _ my _ test of his loyalty.”

T’Challa studies her, seeing the sheer, vulnerable truth in her deeply iridescent brown eyes. That, along with her silent glare, is enough to convince him his hunch about her true feelings for Barnes is right. She’ll see in time, as he did, that real love isn’t so selfish. One day she’ll understand the true depths of what their father hid from them, from the world. 

Hm, the politics. Who knew his little sister’s heart could end up entwined in his aims for Wakanda’s future protection? He softens, feeling somewhat guilty for putting her in this position, not wishing to ruin her optimism just yet. Already nineteen...how time flies.

“I’ll make you a deal,  _ usisi _ . Once we’ve neutralized this threat, Ingcuka will be free to do as he pleases. Serve...or farm. As a full citizen, it will be his choice.”

Shuri doesn’t know what to say. On the surface, it doesn’t sound unreasonable. Though the warrior king’s request frightens her, she doesn’t see a way out of it.

“What will you ask him to do?”

“One mission. With this particular target, one of our War Dogs would be spotted before they even started. And anyway...since Killmonger’s coup...”

“You’re still not sure how many of them can be trusted, are you?”

T’Challa’s silence is confirmation enough. 

She meets his gaze, understanding this is all the information he’s going to give her. She has to trust, as she is asking for him to trust. For a split second she thinks of confessing that she’s falling in love with the man he wants to send into danger, but it might only worsen her plight. 

“Alright.” Shuri’s hope returns despite her uneasiness. She gives a confident nod. She and Bucky will figure this out, together. “It’s a deal. But you should give him the choice. If he refuses, find someone else.”

“Fair enough. I’ll give him the choice. And a warning.” T’Challa lifts her chin so she’s meeting his gaze. “You are more precious than all the vibranium in the Great Mound. If  _ anything _ happened to you on his watch, Umama would never forgive me. I would never forgive myself. The only thing left would be my vengeance.”

This will be a test of both Bucky and Shuri’s willingness to uphold duty and put their country before themselves. If it comes down to it, the king will sacrifice her heart  _ and _ Bucky Barnes to save her or Wakanda. 

“I understand, brother.” She’s momentarily relieved. 

He isn’t delving any deeper into her feelings than she’s prepared for right now. A small victory she will accept, despite the new worries accompanying it.

T’Challa searches his mind for a moment and lands on just the thing to lighten the mood again.

“I hear some  _ very _ eligible young bachelors from around the kingdom are on the guest list for your birthday party, by the way.” He can’t stop his grin from spreading when he sees his teasing take instant effect. “It’ll be fun to watch them realize your virtue is guarded by a super-soldier with a vibranium arm.”

“ _ ‘Guarding my virtue’ _ ?” Shuri rolls her eyes to the ceiling, mortified by the mental image. “‘Oh  _ please _ . You don’t really expect me to take that courtship thing seriously, do you?”

“I thought you were into the old ways these days, with your spiritual awakening, no?” 

T’Challa laughs at how irritated she is, knowing the real reason she doesn’t want to enter courtship. He of course has no plans to force her to marry anyone, but royal protocol and political PR are still things they must contend with. An heir must come from somewhere. Their lineage must survive. It’s a burden they were  _ both _ born with.

“Settle down. You know it’s more to appease the press than anything else. We’re hosting a fugitive spy and asking our people to accept him as one of us. 

“I’m opening our borders for the first time in our history. To ‘colonizers’, no less. We need all the distracting gossip we can get.” 

_ But having ‘Wakanda’s youngest heir’ take that fugitive spy as a lover is definitely not the gossip you’re looking for, is it, brother? _ , she thinks sarcastically. Challenge accepted, then. T’Challa isn’t going to find out a thing she doesn’t want him to know from now on. No one will. 

“I’m an entertainer. I’ll handle myself.”

“I’ve no doubts of that, trust me. Speaking of distracting gossip...” he changes the subject, hopefully successfully deflating the tension building in the Royal Talon’s quietly humming space. “Do you remember when I finally admitted how I feel about Nakia?”

She was barely a teen, then, but she teased him mercilessly for trying to hide it. The memory makes her smile. “You were insufferable until you finally got it over with.”

He smiles down at her in return, appearing almost as shy as he used to be around Nakia what feels like ages ago. “ _ You _ were the insufferable one. ‘Mama, too. But you were both right.”

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a black box, handing it to her. Shuri releases a tiny gasp as she opens it to reveal an engagement ring with a huge,  _ sublime _ yellow square cut diamond.

“I’m hoping to find just the right moment.” He can’t hide his excitement and nerves. “Don’t worry, I wouldn’t dare overshadow your birthday extravaganza.”

“ _ BROTHER! _ ” Shuri screeches, hitting him. “I don’t care about that! The sooner the better!”

“ _ Easy…! _ ” T’Challa beams, allowing her to hug him tightly before moving off to plop herself down once again onto the comfortable jump seat. “You’d  _ better _ care about that. Our mother’s been planning it for weeks, even in her sleep.” 

She huffs dismissively, examining the ring closely. She imagines the moment Nakia sees it. It’ll look perfect on her. Her brother takes a seat next to her, reaching for the ring again. He turns it over in his elegant hands, letting the sunlight bounce through it to cast prisms of sparkling golds and pinks across the space before closing the box and repocketing it. 

“Everything comes in time. Nakia was right to leave Wakanda to find her calling. It took many challenges to bring our paths together again. Thank Bast. It could’ve gone a  _ very _ different way.”

He hopes she can hear the message in his quiet remembrances. 

“Being what we are is not about freedom, Shuri. It never has been. If our sacrifices for our people are rewarded, it will only be because we got out of the way. You will learn that.”

She has no response. Her head and her heart are at war. But she hears him, loud and clear.

“Just give me some time to assemble witnesses and build a case,” he reaches up to stroke her soft cheek reassuringly. “The Council will grant him asylum, and you will have your guardian.”

They make it official. Shuri will get to reduce the number of eyes watching her if she can completely reform Bucky and he agrees to help T’Challa on this mysterious, secret mission.

She determines to trust her brother won’t put Bucky in a position that will do more harm than good. In the meantime, there will be a big party, a royal engagement, and a long humanitarian tour across the continent to feed to the press. Everything just got riskier, but she still has hope. She has so many things to show him, out in the world and behind closed doors. It will be a lot, and it will happen fast. It’s a long game to play, but they can get through it, together.

She’s silent for the rest of the flight, thinking about her plans. 

T’Challa continues to watch her, knowing that there are harsh tests ahead for them all. 

He prays his gamble will pay off. 

And, of course, that Nakia will say  _ ‘yes’ _ .

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next, Bucky faces the Council and the trial of the Tribes.


	15. The Trial of the Tribes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky faces the judgement of the Royal Tribal Council.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> During the Council meeting, whenever dialogue is in Italics, it's to represent that the speaker is using Xhosa.

The General’s Royal Talon flies toward the palace, the vibrant central city below it teeming with colorful life, the towering, spiral-shaped buildings around it winking in the waning sunlight. 

Bucky stands near the cockpit, staring at the view, disappearing into his thoughts. 

He’s dressed in his best clothes: black pants and a dark gray henley, accessorised with the tribal cloth wrap he was given at his adoption ritual, his dog tags and vibranium arm shined to perfection. 

He took his time cleaning himself up, taming his hair by pulling it back from his face and combing it with the pretty one he bought for Olla. She loves it, but insisted on leaving it with him so she won’t lose or break it. He’s been making good use of it on her orders. It parts and detangles his thick, wavy strands pretty well. He also trimmed his beard. Looking like a shaggy farmer won’t make the impression he desires, he surmised back at his hut. So he went the extra mile, his sharp hearing keeping track of the small talk between the Dora and the Doc as he cleaned and trimmed his fingernails and made sure he smells good. 

Focusing on these details as he prepared himself helped him stay calm. Now all he has is the view. It is beautiful, but it only makes him acutely aware of all he has to lose. Not just Sunshine’s grace, healing and help, but also a chance for somewhere to belong. 

Though he’s stoic on the outside, inside he’s quaking like a newly roused volcano. Okoye stands next to him, glancing at him sideways before returning her gaze to the land below. 

“Nervous?” she asks softly, her voice more gentle and open than usual.

Bucky decides to make a joke. “How can ya tell? Is it the sweaty forehead?”

She chuckles quietly, her gentle tone remaining. “Actually, you look good.” She touches his flesh arm, something she maybe picked up from N’Yuna, who’s on duty somewhere. He could sure use her witty, optimistic way of looking at things right now. He supposes, though, General Okoye is a fine substitute. “I know you’re a man of few words, but you haven’t spoken since we left the village.  _ Breathe _ , Bucky.” 

He doesn’t know what to make of the fact that she’s trying to connect with him right this moment, but he won’t take it for granted. He takes a deep breath, nodding appreciatively when the air fills his lungs. “Thanks.”

They’re closing in, the palace and connected tribal council hall in view.

“There’s nothing to fear.” Okoye continues, her hand remaining in place, warm and firm. “We’re in your corner.”

“That’s just it. Don’t wanna let any of you down.”

“You are a man of great strength.” She implores him to meet her gaze. The other Dora watch silently, moving just a bit closer. “Draw on it from within. Use it to get through this.”

“What do you think I should say?”

“Tell them you only want to serve your country,” She smiles warmly, “if that’s what you wish Wakanda to become.”

He pauses before returning to face the view. “I do. More than anything I’ve ever wanted.” 

“I know.”

“King T’Challa and the Council are already assembled and waiting, General.” Their pilot M’asi informs them over her shoulder. “We’re to escort Ingcuka there as soon as we land.”

Bucky focuses on breathing and the silent hope that he’ll see Sunshine as he follows the small group of Dora into the palace. He’s survived insurmountable odds for any regular human many times, but this march to face the Royal Tribal Council makes him feel like a dead man walking. If they refuse to grant him asylum, he’ll be heartbroken. He knows he’ll have Steve, but he will lose Shuri. In no time at all, she’s managed to become one of the most important people in his life. If they deny him even a tiny path to being with her, he doesn’t know what he’ll do. 

They come upon great, vibranium double doors adorned with age-old tribal carvings. Okoye turns to face him. “Remember what I told you.”

He gives her a silent gesture of understanding, too nervous to speak again.

“May the ancestors be with you, Ingcuka,” M’asi whispers. The others follow suit, offering their support quietly as he passes them. He knows they mean it.

Okoye escorts him into the great, elegantly lit chamber.

In the center of the room lies the ancient, red clay base of what was once the very first royal kraal. Circling the base is a row of intricately designed chairs, each occupied by a leader of a Wakandan tribe, the Queen Mother, and one empty seat. 

In the center, the throne, an imposing structure with tribal carvings etched into its circular backing. T’Challa sits there, watching the pair close the distance.

Bucky meets each of their eyes as Okoye leads him forward, landing on the king’s last. The Council members watch him silently, their expressions unreadable, decades of political survival folded into their dark skin, their eyes deep and wise, unflinching. Not even the Queen Mother gives anything away. Her expression is neutral, expectant, nothing more.

“My king. Esteemed Council. Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes.” Okoye announces, stopping a few feet away from the throne with Bucky behind her, halting dead center of the red clay base. “Also known as Ingcuka. White Wolf. Adopted Son of Yeda.”

T’Challa doesn’t smile or offer any warm greeting. He merely nods. Okoye leaves Bucky, taking her place standing aside the throne. He offers the Wakandan salut and stands at attention. Behind him, two royal guards bring a chair. Ramonda gestures for him to take a seat.

He obeys, focusing on the king, keeping his face calm, his eyes attentive.

T’Challa stands and takes a few steps toward Bucky, his hands folding behind his back. He circles the ex-soldier, addressing the Council members and finally Bucky as he makes a complete circle. He speaks in Xhosa, as does everyone from this moment forward.

_ “This man seeks asylum and citizenship in our great nation. He will be the first since we opened our borders. I intend to make an example of him. I ask for your help. _

_ “Today, you will hear testimony as to why I believe we should grant him a place in Wakanda, and my proposal for how he can serve for our greater benefit.” _

He pauses to face Bucky again. He offers none of the friendly ease he displayed at the adoption feast, but from the sound of it, he is still on Bucky’s side. That’s all that matters. One of the council members stands. By the colors of his Lesotho blanket and the particular pattern of his tribal face scars, he is M’Kathu, the leader of the Border Tribe. He paces in a counter-clockwise circle, opposite his king’s path.

“ _ With respect to the Council and his majesty, this man is  _ **_not_ ** _ one of us and never will be. We need our king, now more than ever, to put  _ **_Wakanda_ ** _ first. _ ”

Bucky can’t do anything but glare at the empty witness chair next to the throne, realizing that this is a trial and these are the opening arguments. T’Challa appears to remain confident, despite M’Kathu’s obvious disdain for the idea of Bucky even being here. 

“ _ Very well, M’Kathu, we will hear your arguments. But I warn you,” T _ ’Challa grants, his tone chilling,  _ “I will not tolerate the same kind of rhetoric that nearly led us to war, you understand? _ ”

“ _ Forgive me, my king. _ ” Bucky watches the Border Tribe leader’s antagonistic demeanor shift somewhat as he bows. “ _ Our tribe’s shame, however, is part of my argument.  _

“ _ Our  _ **_own brothers_ ** _ sit rotting away in distant prisons for inciting treason from within. How can you ask this Council to trust an outsider to remain loyal to Wakanda when our borders are still so vulnerable? _ ”

“As much as I hate to admit it, I agree, M’Kathu,” Onzi, the Mining Tribe leader, utters in English on Bucky’s right. Her steel brown eyes study him above her hands folded atop the bulbous head of her staff. 

_ “He is not an outsider to us any longer,” _ replies Kwame, the leader of the River Tribe. It’s somewhat tricky for Bucky to understand his Xhosa through his lip plate, but he gets the gist. He’s an uncle to Nakia and a good friend of Chief N’Yansa. He appears to be on Bucky’s side.  _ “The River Tribe has already given our blessing to adopt him, M’Kathu. Watch yourself.” _

_ “Tuh! The River would adopt a mountain goat if it could fish,” _ Onzi snorts, tapping her staff.

Chatter flutters through the gathering. Relations between the Border Tribe and the others are still strained after what W’Kabi did, but the fact remains, Wakanda is deeply distrustful of outsiders. The room is thick with it for a moment. Even Okoye looks somewhat uncomfortable. 

T’Challa doesn’t appear surprised, or falter. He calls for silence, and his first witness.

It’s Ayo, appearing in the empty chair as a hologram to represent the Dora. T’Challa and the Council grill her on Bucky’s character, his training, witnessing him save Shuri’s life, and more. She defends the damage he’d done to some of the Border Tribesmen as M’Kathu argues against the use of someone like Bucky against their own people. “ _ He was a great aid to us in battle. Without Ingcuka, Wakanda as we know it would be lost and there would be many more casualties, your majesty. _ ”

Several villagers also appear via hologram. The chief, N’Yuna, her parents, a couple of the farmers he works with, even Olla’s father vouches for him. They all hold their own against some of the more rigorous questions from the king and the council. 

For a moment, Bucky begins to believe that this could turn in his favor. Everyone T’Challa calls is overwhelmingly positive. So far M’Kathu has been thwarted in luring out any evidence that Bucky’s proven himself untrustworthy. At least, not from any of them. 

Then, the subject of his past comes up. How and why he ended up here in the first place.

His new world expands and yet becomes vise-like as the Border Tribe leader begins to show holographic files pertaining to Winter Soldier sightings...including the most recent one framing him for their former king’s murder.

“ _Even if this man, this_ colonizer, _was framed in the plot that murdered King T’Chaka,_ ” M’Kathu hisses the word ‘colonizer’ in English for the extra sting, pointing at Bucky as he addresses the Council at large, his kimoyo beads projecting the damning evidence, “ _he still comes from their world!_ _He is suspected to be responsible for countless deaths and acts of terrorism across the globe. Just as N’Jadaka was! I charge you again, T’Challa, how can you ask us to trust him?_ ”

The Council erupts, questions flying at the throne, most in support of M’Kathu’s argument.

Okoye finds his eyes and silently signals for him to ‘ _ be patient, say nothing’ _ .

So Bucky sits and endures it, both his vibranium and flesh fingers curling steadily inward against his thighs so he doesn’t break the chair’s ancient, hand-carved wood into splinters. 

_ This is it, then. The Winter Soldier doesn’t even need to be activated to ruin my future. _

He longs to see Sunshine. She is the one glaring absence among all the people here talking around him about his fate. Not even the Dora’s support, the Queen Mother’s benevolence, or T’Challa’s confidence can stop the despair beginning to invade his mind.

Thankfully, T’Challa calmly calls for silence. He addresses M’Kathu in English this time.

“I am proposing that we do with Barnes what we failed to do with N’Jadaka.” The king folds his hands against his chest, now seated at the throne. “And, since you brought it up, allow me to bring forth my next witness.”

He nods to the Queen Mother, who catches Bucky’s gaze with a sparkle in her eyes as she calls for one of the guards. “Have my daughter join us, will you?”

Bucky sits at attention. The silence that falls on the room as they wait for her allows him to zero in on her approach. He hears her coming in to them, though he can’t turn to watch. 

He sees the back of her first as she stops near him and offers the Wakandan salute. She places her hands behind her back like her brother, standing as tall as she can though she is still quite diminutive in the cavernous hall. Bucky can’t help staring. He loves her, he’s missed her, he’s in the middle of a trial that could see him lose her with a single vote against him.

_ Don’t think like that, Bucky. Focus on Sunshine. _

She’s wearing a sleeveless, intricate wrap top and a skin-tight pencil skirt that goes down to past her knees, capped with platform, animal print clogs to make her seem taller. Her smooth, lush, dark brown skin of her arms is exposed, as well as her back in some places beneath the criss-crossing fabric. Her long braids cascade down her back, hiding her sweet face from him. 

“Princess Shuri,” T’Challa gestures for his sister to speak. “Tell us about your work with Sergeant Barnes.”

“My pleasure, brother.” Bucky is treated to her musical voice before she turns and faces the room. Her eyes sweep over her audience, landing on him. Radiant and beautiful, she smiles at him demurely and activates her kimoyo beads. “As you can see, I’ve synthesized a new version of the herb that has allowed me to remove Bucky’s HYDRA programming, one trigger at a time. 

“At this time, we’re about thirty percent into the process. With the Council’s blessing, I intend to accelerate that progress to one hundred percent as soon as possible. He could be trigger-free in a few days.”

Her voice is a soprano violin solo in the middle of a stormy melodrama. She maintains her composure flawlessly, her intellect and passion infectious. She even has M’Kathu hanging on her every word. Bucky, for his part, can’t help staring, unmoving, anchored there by her radiance. He is fascinated by how much work she’s put into decoding the inner workings of his mind, and how quickly she was able to use her research to benefit her people.

“This research has also helped me begin re-seeding the herb garden N’Jadaka burned. It will be fully replenished in a matter of months, stronger than ever if my new strain succeeds.”

She goes through the stages of her discovery, from Bucky’s first arrival and how she was able to sedate him before cryosleep to the successful removal of his first trigger. His eyes are only for her, though he is careful to disguise this as dutiful attentiveness for their audience. 

“ _ Glory to the ancestors _ , that you’ve found a way to save the sacred herb, young one. And my congratulations on the adoption.” M’Baku, leader of the Jabari Tribe, speaks for the first time since they began. Until now he’s only silently observed from behind the steeple of his large fingers. His deep voice reverberates through the room, though he doesn’t raise it above a steady tenor. He glances sideways at Kwame, then back to Bucky. “Yet I’ve still not heard a convincing reason for trusting this outsider with Wakanda’s deepest secrets.”

He stands, his imposing figure even greater than M’Kathu’s. He advances slowly, examining Shuri’s holographic research, eyeing Bucky with keen interest. Bucky meets his gaze but says nothing. This is only his second encounter with the man. All Bucky knows is that until recently (according to the Dora), M’Baku was an even bigger isolationist than King T’Chaka. 

“Yeda claims him to be a good farmer. That’s nice. I even fought alongside him in battle. He’s a fierce warrior, I’ll grant him. But a loyal guardian of Wakanda?” The huge man scoffs. “Unless this girl’s science can transform his blood until it’s Wakandan, I’m not convinced.”

“He will become one of us. I’ve seen it.” Shuri blurts, causing Bucky’s (and everyone else’s) gaze to dart back toward her. She looks at him in a panic for just a second, but somehow makes herself even taller to turn and face M’Baku. “I’ve used the herb myself. It gave me a vision. In it, Ingcuka does what he did for us in that battle you speak of for years...generations. Everything he does from now on will benefit Wakanda.”

M’Baku raises a thick eyebrow at Shuri as if trying to decide if she’s joking, or somehow trying to telepathically see her vision for himself. “ _ You _ , child? You went to the ancestral plane? And you lived.”

“I am  _ not _ a child and  _ yes _ , I did.” Shuri grits, refusing to back down. “So did Ingcuka.”

Everyone turns to Bucky now. He swallows and nods. “That’s right. First I saw my old prison, then my mother, then...I believe he’s called Bashenga. He said  _ ‘keep to your path’. _ ”

“ _ Hallucinations. Or lies. _ ” M’Kathu hisses under his breath.

“ _ The princess is telling the truth. I witnessed, in the healing pools. _ ” One of the Council members, the elder from the Merchant Tribe who attended his first session in the lake, speaks. “ _ He has consumed the herb. He has passed through the ancestral plain, leaving his triggers behind. He can do so and survive again. The princess’ spirit is strong enough to anchor him to the living realm. _ ”

“ _ An outsider in the forbidden pools? _ ” M’Kathu demands. “ _ Who allowed this? _ ”

“The elders themselves, M’Kathu,” Queen Mother Ramonda speaks for the first time, hushing the room, even humbling M’Baku. She stands, and both men sit. “Koinet, Kokan and Saiton  _ all _ granted Shuri their blessing to give Ingcuka access to the pools. Yes,  _ an outsider _ . 

“I had my own doubts, but not them. They  _ believe _ in her vision. Who are you to deny centuries of wisdom? Who am  _ I _ to _? _ ” She closes the distance and takes her daughter’s hands. “Both Shuri’s scientific mind  _ and _ her faith have guided her on a path to restoring our ancestral pride.”

She then turns to approach Bucky, taking his hands now, guiding him to stand. 

“I have the utmost confidence that she can reform this man.” He looks down at her elegant face as she addresses both him and the room at large. That gleam in her eyes is also encouraging. “And in return, he  _ will _ uphold his duty to Wakanda.”

M’Baku shifts around in his seat, exchanging looks with Okoye and T’Challa. M’Kathu sits fuming, but humbled. He knows not to question the Queen Mother.

“We must recommit ourselves to the balance of the new and the old, for the good of our people. We must  _ embrace _ this expanding world.” She gives Bucky a firm nod before returning to her seat. “I vote to grant Sergeant Barnes temporary asylum so that Shuri’s treatment can continue. If it is successful, then I see no reason not to review his request to become a citizen positively.”

T’Challa takes his mother’s hand and kisses it. “ _ Thank you, Mother, _ ” he whispers in Xhosa. 

“ _ My son. _ ” She lowers her gaze demurely, resembling her daughter. Then her expression returns to cool neutrality as she surveys the room to measure the effect of her words. 

Bucky stands only a few steps from Shuri, who has now turned to face the throne at his side. He can feel her dynamic energy drawing him to her as if she has her own gravitational pull. He resists, but only because of the many eyes upon them and the realization that he’s about to learn his fate.  _ Their _ fate. He can feel Shuri’s worry for the future of their (dangerously secret) relationship just as potently as he can feel his own.

T’Challa addresses him in English, his expression now somewhat encouraging, a first since they started. “We have heard the testimony of our Dora, our citizens, and our Council. The evidence from Shuri is compelling, but before our final ruling, I wish to hear you speak for yourself.”

The looming walls close in on him somewhat, but a fleeting glance at Sunshine is all he needs to get a grip. Everyone waits. He doesn’t really have anything prepared. He decides to just speak from his heart. It’s what the Doc would tell him to do. It’s what the _Bucky Steve knows_ would do. 

“Thank you, your majesty…” Bucky pauses, gets a very scary idea, and decides to say as much as he can in Xhosa. He isn’t as smoothly fluent as a true native, but he’s fluent enough. “ _ I didn’t come here to hide from my past. I am trying, if the Council will allow me, to heal from it.  _

“ _ As long as HYDRA’s triggers remain inside my mind, I’m a dangerous tool for your enemies. If not for Princess Shuri, I could’ve been one for N’Jadaka.  _ That’s the truth no matter where I go, I know that.

“ _But_ _the moment I set foot here, it felt like home. The people here_ **_feel like_** **_home_**.”

Shuri turns to gaze at him from beneath her lashes, her palpable empathy soothing him. He glances her way to get an eyeful of her beautiful face before he forges ahead, his clumsy Xhosa mixing with his Brooklyn-accented English. He is speaking more now than he has in ages, but he means every single word of it. 

_ “ _ Thanks to the princes, I feel myself coming back to who I was before HYDRA. _ I was a soldier. A man of honor. I fought and died for my country, for my brothers. Because they were my  _ **_home_ ** _.” _

Bucky pauses to breathe, swallow, allay his emotion. That’s all he wants. Some place,  _ someone _ , to call home. There are so many things he wants to say now that he’s standing here, after months of being unable to find the words. He continues with a bit more reserve, but he lets himself embrace the fear this time. Run with it. He has nothing and yet  _ everything _ to lose at the same time. In a way, in this moment, it’s almost liberating.

He kneels before the throne, his gaze lowering to his dog tags dangling above the ancient red clay beneath his boots.

“All I’m asking for is a chance to do the same for Wakanda. For you, your majesty. All of you.  _ I’ll do whatever you ask of me. _ Just...please...let me stay and prove it to you.” 

Emotion wells up inside him again, threatening to spill over, but he manages to squeeze out one last  _ ‘please’ _ in Xhosa before the flow of humble pleas have a chance to turn into tearful begging. He clasps his jaw shut and clenches his vibranium fist to stop it before it overwhelms him.

“ _ Stand, White Wolf. _ ” T’Challa replies. 

Bucky takes a moment to brace himself, then stands to face the throne once again. Beside him, he feels Shuri’s energy reaching out to him. If things don’t go his way, this might be the last time he sees her. He tries not to let that thought terrify him, and fails.

“Thank you for your honesty,” the king sighs somberly, “and your passion. The Council will deliberate.” He nods for Okoye to escort him from the room. 

Just like that, it’s over. 

Bucky has no time to react properly, or slip in more than another glance at Sunshine before he’s forced to follow the general away from her.

His heart pounds and his flesh hand grows clammy as he follows Okoye out of the hall, Shuri’s warmth slipping away with each step. He’s said everything he could say. He’s answered all the questions he could answer. The king brought in all the witnesses. The princess and Queen Mother defended him more than they really had to, more than he had a right to ask. 

His fate is now in the hands of the Tribes. 

All he can do is wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More on the way :)  
> -MM


	16. A Mercy and A Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky receives a mercy, a mission, and a visit from his Sunshine.

“Hard part is over, Ingcuka.” Okoye whispers as she steps aside to allow him into the same lavish guest room he stayed in his first time at the palace. “A man of few words, indeed. Now rest, and keep breathing.”

He gives her a smile before she leaves him alone, feeling a sense of grim accomplishment.

There’s no surface he feels like sitting on, so he stands by Sunshine’s window facing the gardens. _God_ , he wants to hold her. Even if it’s only for a few minutes. It’s all he can think about right now with his fate hanging in the balance. He stands there, unable to let his mind picture the council members discussing him or he’ll doom himself on their behalf. 

He wishes Steve was here to reassure him with a firm _don’t worry, Buck_ . Or something silly like _chill out, Dances With Wolves_ from Sam. Anything but this silence and longing for Shuri in his arms. His komoyo beads remain lifeless against his flesh wrist. He wants to hail her, maybe leave her a voice message, but the thought of her still being surrounded by royals and tribal leaders when he does is enough to deter him.

After what seems like hours, M’asi and his other Dora escorts bring him some food, trying to distract him enough to pull him out of his anxious thoughts. He can only manage to swallow a few bites. The food feels like straw going down.

He can’t eat, only wait. Okoye calls them away when it’s obvious that the only remedy for his strangling nerves will be the Council’s verdict.

The sun has set and he’s staring at his pale reflection in the window by the time he hears a sharp knock at the door.

Bucky turns to face his visitor, willing himself to remain calm and accept whatever the decision is. The door opens and King T’Challa steps in, clasping his hands behind his back. 

“Your majesty.” Bucky bows his head and offers the Wakandan salute. 

T’Challa returns the gesture. He sighs wearily. “I’m sorry for the wait. As you can imagine, it was quite the debate.”

Bucky can only nod, his anticipation too great to waste a breath on anything else. 

“Relax, James. The Council has voted to grant your asylum.”

Relief floods his body, air filling his lungs as he takes a deep breath and exhales sharply, audibly. A weight as enormous as the Hulk feels like it’s been lifted from his shoulders. Hope replaces it, making him feel lighter than he’s felt in a long, long time. 

T’Challa is smiling at him with pride, now, watching the happiness and relief creep its way into Bucky’s body language. “It was M’Baku, to my great surprise, who cast the deciding vote.”

Bucky is definitely surprised. “That’s kinda hard to believe.”

“If I didn’t witness it myself I’d be right there with you, my friend.”

T’Challa closes the distance between them, leading Bucky toward the open lounge area, gesturing for him to sit. He finds himself and the king occupying the same positions as when the Queen Mother came to graciously kick him out of the palace.

This is a very different conversation; a very different royal.

“He expects you to fail.” Bucky tenses a bit, but T’Challa seems unbothered. “He’s looking forward to watching me struggle to accomplish what he calls my idealistic goals.”

“So, this new alliance with the Jabari is still kinda sensitive.”

“Mm, M’Baku has always arrogantly believed his bloodline produces better kings, fiercer warriors. It’s the Jabari way. His vote is more like a wager. It’s on us to make sure we win, eh?”

Bucky nods. It’s just macho enough to make sense. “M’Kathu?”

“Not a big fan of yours, but outnumbered. He has a lot to atone for, himself. Rebuilding trust in the Border Tribe is his responsibility, not yours. The Council is wise enough to know the difference between a threat and a scapegoat.”

“Thank you. I don’t know what to say. How to, uh...”

“Just listen, for now.” T’Challa leans forward. “After we clear your triggers, you must enter a period of probation. That is unconditional.

“Think of it as highly specialized community service. The kind only someone of your skillset could take on. As a bonus, it comes with a royal security clearance.”

It takes Bucky all of ten seconds to deduce that he’s about to spend who knows how long as a royal bodyguard. Not a bad way to do community service. He is aware of his privilege; having the Dora, the River Tribe, and the royal family in his corner; but it’s still a better offer than he ever expected.

“You want me to protect someone.” T’Challa nods. “Another outsider?”

“Quite the opposite. Though a great challenge for you, to be sure.”

The first person that comes to mind is the king himself, but Okoye and Ayo have that honor, and the Black Panther can take care of himself. He thinks of the Queen Mother, Kwame, or perhaps one of the tribal leaders still resisting his presence. The Dora are all more than capable of handling any of them, though. 

“She requested you, herself.”

That narrows it down. “The princess.”

“If you think you can handle it.” 

Bucky lowers his gaze, trying to examine the conflicting feelings gathering inside him. The sheer magnitude of the responsibility; the strain this will put on his self-control. Regardless of his concerns, a heated rush of excitement gets a grip on him. This means he will be spending a lot more time around her. This means he can hear her voice, see her sweet face, smell her soothing scent by just turning his head in a certain direction instead of waiting days, weeks. He wonders if she had any say in all this, if she was there for the deliberations, if this was her idea. 

“It was her idea,” T’Challa confirms with a knowing smile. Bucky raises his eyebrows in a silent request for the king to elaborate. “Whether M’Baku likes it or not, she’s our only expert on HYDRA’s psychological warfare. And she’s determined to spend as much time on your recovery as possible. However, her royal duties are growing,” T’Challa explains. “Her time must be split between her work in the lab, as an ambassador, and with your full recovery. No easy feat.

“So, wherever the princess goes, you shall follow. You will be in charge of her security while she tours the continent. Upon your return, her testimony can guarantee your citizenship. Do you agree to those terms?”

“I’ll protect her with my life.”

“Shuri has foreseen just that. It’s a very large part of why you’re still here, Ingcuka. And I can see...you _mean_ it.”

His gaze is probing, and something else. The king may as well be reading his mind. Bucky doesn’t want to lie to the sovereign leader of his new home, especially not after being granted a place here by the skin of his teeth, so he does the next best thing. He says nothing at first. 

“She was the first thing you asked about, in this very room, your first night out of cryostasis.”

He remembers. Even after the disorientation of being taken out of cryostasis and the whole ordeal of fighting N’Jadaka and a small army, Shuri was all he could think about.

“She’s the first person your eyes find in any room where you’re together. And the last.”

He doesn’t have an answer. T’Challa doesn’t seem angry, only certain. Serious. Bucky just waits, not sure if speaking is the best idea right now. 

“She saw your devotion in a vision, but I’ve seen it since she first started working with you, James.” As if telling a story to an old friend, T’Challa continues: “She’s been fighting hard to keep you here, in her care, because of it.”

“She really believes in it.” 

“Do _you?_ ”

Bucky pauses, taking a minute to ask himself. He felt something _real_ when he was in that other world with his mother, and after. Whatever it was, it’s why he’s sitting here today. Regardless, the way he feels, he would find a way to _make_ her vision come true. “I believe in _her_.”

“Because of _your_ vision? Or because of your feelings for her?”

Yeah. There it is. The bald faced truth. Bucky has no defense, no poker face strong enough to deploy against T’Challa’s certainty. 

“I’ve spent enough time pining after an unattainable woman to recognize the look.”

“Both…” he whispers. 

“I believe you,” Shuri’s big brother sighs, looking down at his hands. “There’s just one problem. _She_ believes what she saw is true love. She thinks I don’t know, but she tends to forget that I know her better than anyone.”

Bucky’s heart sinks when T’Challa looks at him again. 

“I’m not cruel enough to crush her hopes outright, nor would I tell you that you’re wrong for caring for her. It will ensure you keep your word, protect her as you vow.

“But we both know that’s _all_ you can do. Anything more could be viewed as sedition.”

Somehow, Bucky gets air into his lungs enough to respond. “I know.”

“Then I must appeal to the man of honor in you now, James. She may be heartbroken, she may even be angry with us both. But she’ll heal, in time. She has a duty to her people. She is my only sister and she is only nineteen.”

Bucky’s head feels like lead, but he manages to nod, slowly. He blinks back a rush of dampness in his eyes before it has a chance to form tears.

“Your duty now is to protect her from _every_ danger. Including her very limited ideals about love.” 

Bucky feels fire in his lungs. “I would never take advantage of her,” he manages to choke out.

As he did that first night in this very room, he also feels a type of way about T’Challa’s very limited view of his little sister. But he has even fewer legs to stand on in protest now than he did then. _I do as I please, Bucky Barnes. Don’t give up on us._

“Good. Then we have an understanding.” There is silence for a long pause as Bucky’s mind reels. When T’Challa speaks next, his tone is somewhat more empathetic, even apologetic. “There’s something else I must ask of you. I promised her I would give you the choice, so you’re free to refuse. I’m hoping you won’t.”

Bucky frowns. “Is there a fight?”

“Without your help, I’m afraid there could be.”

The weight of this request settles itself in their lush surroundings like a fog. Bucky has seen the king’s grave look in others before, many times. There’s no fight yet, but there _is_ a mission. One only a super spy with nearly a century of experience can take on, apparently. If the king isn’t burdening one of his own spies with this, it must be enough of a threat that he’d go to drastic lengths. 

These are the _real_ terms of his asylum. He’d be a fool to think refusing this mission wouldn’t affect that, no matter what the king says now. This is what everyone’s been preparing him for, in so many words. This is what doing anything to earn his new home looks like. Steel begins to snuff out the fire. Bucky sits at attention, ready to comply.

“What’s the mission?”

T’Challa looks immensely relieved.

“What do you know about the Lost City of Atlantis?”

* * *

Once the king leaves him with the intel from Ross, Bucky has to fight off a tidal wave of conflicting thoughts. 

The only thing that brings him out of it is the thought of Sunshine’s faith in him. _Don’t give up on us_. He won’t. He can’t. There has to be another way. 

He decides to wait. To be honest with her, the first opportunity he gets. He’ll do his duty, accept T’Challa’s mission, but he won’t keep her in the dark. T’Challa thinks she doesn’t understand who she is, what she wants...everything Bucky has seen in her suggests decidedly otherwise. If he thinks back to all the conversations they’ve had just the two of them, one theme emerges: her desire to no longer be seen as a little girl who can’t be trusted to make her own decisions. The king may have his loyalty, but she’s got his heart. A home is nothing without that.

He has dinner in the garden with the Dora who brought him here, minus Okoye, who is tending to the Queen Mother. N’Yuna is still on duty, but he’s able to speak to her via kimoyo while they eat. She’s proud of him and he’s immensely grateful for all she’s done for him, especially her testimony. When he tells them the news of his new job, everyone reacts as if he’s won the lottery. “Oh, the princess is the best!” M’asi gushes. “Don’t tell anyone, but she’s my favorite royal.”

“What an honor, Ingcuka!” N’Yuna exclaims on the hologram. “I had a feeling...she’s been your biggest advocate.” 

“Yeah, she has.” He can’t hide the pride that seeps into his voice. “It’s an honor, truly.” 

“Protect her well.” They all toast to him and for the first time, he truly feels that he belongs here.

They leave him with their blessing and a promise to stop ‘taking it easy’ on him now that he’s officially almost a citizen. 

When no one comes to collect him it’s pretty apparent that he’s staying at the palace. 

Bucky takes off his overshirt and shoes, loosens his hair, and sits cross-legged on the floor in the lounge area. In an effort to occupy his mind, he boots up his beads and begins studying the dossier on the mission T’Challa gave him. 

The ultimate target is a half-man, half-aquatic demigod called Namor. Working with HYDRA and sparring with half the Avengers makes Bucky feel up to speed on this type of foe. For centuries, there’s been a long-standing, secret cold war between the thought-to-be-mythical Atlantis and the deceptively secluded (until now), Wakanda. T’Challa has learned that there are potential Atlantean spies working in greater Africa and other areas, ones who fed Killmonger the intel on how to incite the Border Tribe. He knew a great deal about what he was dealing with before he ever set foot on Wakandan land. Before he partnered with Klaw even, he’d engaged Namor to join forces with a promise of a handsome payment of vibranium in exchange for help overthrowing the world’s nations from below. Killmonger’s coup is the gift that keeps on giving, apparently. His defeat only delayed the discovery of Namor’s involvement, but the threat remains. In what is supposed to be a time of peace and openness for Wakanda, this threat cannot come to pass, or get out to the public. 

That’s where Bucky comes in. He has to start on land. All T’Challa wants him to do right now is surveil, gather more intelligence, rather than entrusting one of his War Dogs, who could potentially be compromised. Whatever leads he finds could send him under the ocean. There is no knowing if he will return, but it’s his mission to. He’ll succeed. He has to. Now that he has a fighting chance, nothing will keep him from coming home. 

Bucky stares at the hologram, already having memorized most of the intel, the realization of his success today hitting him. _I have a home, now. Something to believe in. Something to fight for._

When this mission is done, he can go back to his tea and hammock. He can sit and talk with the Doc under his tree by the river. He can watch Olla and her brothers grow. Maybe even start his own crop or some sort of trade in the market and watch it flourish over time, if he’s lucky. The prospects of a life he thought was impossible four months ago overwhelm him.

If this is the price he has to pay to have those things; to be close to Shuri; he’ll pay it. 

There is a soft, tentative knock on the window overlooking the gardens behind him. 

_It’s Sunshine._

He shuts down the hologram and stands, crossing the distance in a few quick strides.

She’s just beyond the glass, dressed in a nightgown and robe, her eyes glued to his.

Bucky slides open the window and reaches for her without even thinking about it. His body misses hers too much for him to resist. She comes to him with a sweet little sigh of relief, letting him take her in his arms and carry her into the room. Bucky instantly feels the same as soon as he has her petite frame pressed against his much larger one. After a quick scan of the garden to make sure there’s no one around to see them, he activates the privacy dimmers on the wall panel next to his elbow, tinting the glass so the inside can’t be seen. He slides the window shut and holds her tight, leaning into her braids to inhale his lungs full of her soothing scent. 

She is warm, as soft as he imagined all those nights without her, and _so vibrant_ in his arms.

His eyes slip shut, his instincts and longing taking over, and he leans in to kiss her gently. She responds with a devastatingly angelic sigh, slipping her silky tongue into his mouth, kissing him back eagerly, her slim fingers trawling through his newly detangled hair. Bucky kisses her deeply for a few moments, swaying with her in his arms, then just her lips over and over, then her cheek, neck, forehead, and finally the tip of her nose. He gets intense little doses of her scent each time he presses his lips to her skin. Mm. “ _Damn,_ I missed you…”

“I came as soon as I could sneak out,” she breathes, hugging him close. Her heart is fluttering a mile a minute. “ _Ugh_ , to hell with M’Kathu and M’Baku. They don’t know anything about me, _or_ you. I was so terrified they’d convince the others to send you away!”

“It’s okay, Sunshine. I’m still here,” he mutters softly into her hair. “I ain’t going anywhere.”

“I loved what you said, Bucky. I hope you know I was praying to Bast for you.”

“You were _spectacular_. Your brother said you were my best bet. He was right. Thank you.”

For a long interlude, he just holds her, his legs carrying him to the bed to lay down with her in his arms of their own accord. She snuggles against him, fitting into his personal space with ease. He has missed holding her like this for so long all he can do is pull her closer, burrow further into her warmth. A sense of satisfaction so deep it’s scary settles over him. _This_ is home. Shuri is as much Wakanda as the river and the village. He can’t separate them. He sighs against the soft skin of her neck, causing her to shiver and wrap her arms around him even tighter.

They lay together in silence for a while, indulging in the knowledge that at least he isn’t going anywhere. Yet. They’re going to have to discuss much more difficult truths any moment now, but he holds onto this peaceful relief as long as he can while the seconds tick by.

Shuri angles her face up to his, catching him staring down at her. His eyes roam over her gorgeous features, unable to stop himself from reaching up with his flesh hand to caress her cheek, her lips. She grins, her fingers tangling in his hair. “You trimmed your beard. Although clean-shaven is more fitting for a royal bodyguard, you look so good I’ll forgive you.”

“Thanks, doll.” Bucky pauses, frowning slightly. “Although, as your new bodyguard, I gotta tell ya, this sneaking out of your room in the middle of the night business has to stop. It’s dangerous.”

She gasps, feigning offense. “Traitor!”

He chuckles, seized with another fierce desire to kiss her. It only gets stronger when she notices, going breathless, and leans up even closer so that he can. With gargantuan effort, he ignores the heat roiling inside him this time and takes her chin between his fingers instead so that she will look at him. “I’m serious. It has to stop. At least, after tonight.”

Shuri recoils slightly, her smile fading. “Give me _some_ credit. I waited as long as I could, and I made sure I wasn’t followed. Besides, we don’t have to worry. I bargained for _you_ to be the one watching over me from now on.”

“I know, and that’s what we need to talk about.” 

Shuri gazes up at him for a long, agonizing moment, reading the truth in his eyes. To his dismay, she pulls slowly away from him. He doesn’t want to part from her warmth yet, but he lets her go. 

He watches her slide off of the bed and walk further into the dimly lit room, her nightgown clinging to her form, revealing her elegant silhouette as she uses her kimoyo beads to activate a holographic fire in the fireplace. The light illuminates her splendidly, causing his breath to hitch in his chest and his arousal to stir below as he gets up to follow her. He stands close, watching, waiting. “T’Challa thinks he knows about us, doesn’t he?”

Bucky sighs hard, bracing himself for what’s going to follow. “He _thinks_ you’re a kid with a crush. He _knows_ I have feelings for you that I shouldn’t have. His one condition is that I don’t act on them.”

“Ugh! The nerve of him after all his drama with Nakia!” She growls, plopping angrily down onto the arm of the chair he sat in when T’Challa was here. “He’s going to propose soon, you know. That would’ve been impossible last year.”

“This is kinda different, Sunshine.”

“You _agree_ with him?” She hurls the question at him, obviously hurt and angry. 

“I think I’m lucky just to be here lookin’ at you, beautiful.” 

Bucky kneels before her, resting his hands on her small thighs, stroking them through the soft fabric of her nightgown. He gazes up at her beseechingly. In the light of the holofire, she looks like a young goddess with her braids flowing across her shoulder.

“But I can’t ignore your brother’s orders, or how he feels. It’s my duty to protect you, now. Even...even from my influence.”

“I don’t _need_ to be protected from your influence, Bucky!” She leans forward to stroke his beard with her soft hands, her passion and proximity stirring his resolve. “I’m not some mindless teenager. I _know_ what I want--to be with you for _you_. I thought you felt the same way.”

He takes hold of her slender wrists. “ _I do._ ”

“But you _are_ going to let my brother scare you into rejecting me? What, because I’m _‘only nineteen’_ in two days?”

“Sunshine, you ain’t _‘only’_ anything. You’re everything. To me. To your family. To everybody.” Bucky kisses her palm, remembering that he brought her now finished gift from his hut, just in case he’d see her. He decides to wait to give it to her, seeing as how he still needs to convince her he truly isn’t going anywhere. He just has to be _a lot_ more careful, for both their sake. “Look,” he pulls her fingers from his beard, holding her hands close to his chest, imploring her to work with him. “I’m not saying that I changed my mind. The truth is…”

Bucky takes a deep breath and prepares to take a leap of faith. The same faith she has shown in him since he got here. Gazing up at her, so gorgeous, so formidable for such a tiny thing, so vibrant and passionate. He wants her like nobody’s business. 

“The truth is _you’re_ the reason I’m still here. You’re in my system, now. I couldn’t get you out if I wanted to.”

“...do you..?” she asks in a whisper so uncertain and demure he wants to kiss her again.

“Nah, Sunshine. You don't get it. You're already in here so deep, it's honestly scary.” He places her delicate hand against his chest, her palm over his heart, staring into her eyes, at her lips, her shapely neck and collarbones...he has to divert this line of thinking so he can get this out. He breathes, her hand rising and falling with the air flowing through his lungs. “But, I want you to know me as my _whole self._ The Bucky I truly am. This ain’t it. This is only a trace of it. 

“One day...I want to walk into that throne room as a full citizen and ask for you. Properly. I can’t do that the way I am now. Please, tell me you understand.”

Shuri is silent for a moment, her hand moving with his breathing, looking inward, he can tell. He is momentarily afraid that she will wrongfully see this as some sort of rejection. But then, when she speaks again, what she says only confirms that her big brother’s actions hold more bias and protectiveness than he realizes, or cares to admit.

“I understand. I want that, too. We will get there, together. I _also_ understand T’Challa made you think acting on your feelings for me amounts to treason,” she elaborates calmly...a tone winding its way into her voice that reminds him of her mother. “I’ve read the laws, Bucky. Yes, one must be a full citizen of a certain caliber to ‘court’ me, but I am free to accept or refuse anyone I please. You, however, are under _my_ authority, now. 

“That means my requests are your law.” she rises, standing to her full height, the holographic fire giving her a mesmerizing aura. “And if I command it...”

He exhales hard, this new sultriness in her voice affecting him so strongly he can only just gaze up at her, riveted to the spot. She angles her pretty face down to his, nudging the cleft in his chin with her button nose. A soft huff escapes her, luring him closer, as if she’s whispering, _kiss me, Bucky._ He doesn’t resist, leaning in...but she pulls away just before he makes contact, standing straight again. In a single breath, she has swayed him like the wind. It feels...good. Very, _very_ good. Almost intoxicating.

“...it’s not illegal. Do _you_ understand, Sergeant?”

He can only nod, sitting upright on his knees in front of her, waiting.

Her eyes are alight with fierce determination, but also a desire so intense he is captivated by it. Ruled by it, a slave to it, as she is telling him in so many words. She isn't wrong. All she has to do is ask him, and he will do it. 

Shuri closes the small distance to pull him toward her, up off his knees. 

They stand close, only a breath between them. Shuri takes his arms, folding them around her slim, shapely body, gazing up at him. “What do you feel right now? What do _you_ want?” 

Bucky leans into her, his large hands enveloping her hips, his fingers digging slightly into her precious, royal flesh. He answers her truthfully. Her eyes brook no refusal. “I want you.”

She leans up to him on her tiptoes, her scent, pliable flesh, and gorgeous, glowing vibrancy infecting him like a fever. He is already hard. Already poised to strike. Her honey lips part right against his. “Then I command you to take what you want.”

Bucky hesitates for only a second before months of pent up desire take over. 

He takes her fully into his arms, lifting her easily as if she were made of feathers. Shuri wraps her legs around his waist, grinding into him on impulse, moaning softly into his kisses. Her lips and tongue consume his world, her small hands invading his hair. The apex of her thighs catches him right along his steadily hardening arousal as she unfolds herself against him. 

“Touch me...” she breathes against his lips, kissing him, clinging to him.

Bucky swings her around, closing the distance between them and the bed in a few steps. Shuri gazes into his eyes unflinchingly as he carries her, her hands cradling his neck, her legs securely wrapped around him. He lays her on her back, hovering over her, anchoring himself with his arms so that he doesn’t crush her. He nuzzles into her, inhaling her scent. “Where do you want me to touch you, princess?”

Shuri gazes up at him, her smile unfolding like a blooming flower, and shimmies the straps of her nightgown off of her elegant shoulders. He watches, mesmerized, as she exposes her small, pert breasts to his roving eyes. “Here...” she breathes, her chest rising up to meet his, her hard nipples making him suppress a shiver of his own as he sinks down just a little further so she can feel his arousal rubbing against her. His kisses her, opening her mouth with his, sending his tongue inside to dance with hers, taking her breath away before releasing her to move his kisses downward. She tenses and makes a cute little noise when his beard tickles her.

He smiles against her skin before sucking on her neck, leaning further and further into her space as his kisses travel. She gasps as he tugs her roughly into him to feel her breasts poking into him before dipping his head and capturing one of her nipples between his lips.

She giggles and tries to squirm away at first. _Shit_ , is it sexy. It drives him wild. He squeezes her possessively in his strong palms, trying to express to her without words that she’s only going to get a treat. He wants to make her feel good. He wants to eat her alive. Her nipples are standing at attention, waiting for his mouth. Begging for his tongue. He leans into her again, letting some of his weight fall on her petite body just enough so she won’t go too far when he makes her squirm again. He fully intends to make her so wet and so turned on that she’s prepared to run away from the intensity of his desire for her. 

He sinks his way down between her legs, letting his hefty hardness rest against her sex. She leans back so that her head catches on the downy pillows, letting her eyes slip shut as a tiny little moan escapes her. He reaches up and massages her, covering one breast with his palm and squeezing. The heat and damp between her legs reaches for him and makes him ache. He thrusts against her as he leans in, roughly pulls the fabric of her nightgown away, and licks her nipple into his mouth. He sucks, _hard_ , causing her to buck up against him and hiss quietly, “ _Ugh!_ ” 

He nibbles at her skin, the silky smoothness of it causing his tongue to slip around as he takes in a mouthful. She’s so untouched, she shivers and shrinks away, but he holds her fast against him. He works her nipples until they’re coiled like tiny brown springs rolling in his mouth. Her flesh is so juicy and supple and sweet slipping and bouncing against his tongue as he devours her breasts, taking turns attending to them. He loses himself. He’s back in the wilds, his fantasies of her burning with the embers in his camp fire, just as her body burns beneath him now. She moans, grinding against him as he palms and sucks her small tits indulgently until he swears he can feel her getting wetter against him. He bucks into her again, wanting so badly to fuck her senseless, knowing he has to pull back soon, even though he’s starting to smell her arousal filling the air around them. _Just a little more..._

She smells so damn good. Potent, fresh like rain in spring. Mouthwatering. Bucky goes in for ‘just a little more’, only releasing her when she’s panting and shuddering and starting to go all dewy with sweat, helpless underneath him. He raises his eyes to hers, lets her see them burn.

“Where else, princess?”

“Lower…” she demands softly, driving a spike of lust straight down his groin. Her pupils are dilated in the firelight as she bites down on her bottom lip, waiting. She runs her fingers through his hair, gripping his vibranium with her other hand as he obliges and goes to work.

He pulls the expensive, delicate fabric of her skin-toned nightgown up her slender thighs, discovering that she isn’t wearing panties. “ _Fuck,_ Sunshine, that’s not fair…” he groans, forgetting his manners.

She giggles at his surprise (and dirty talk), rubbing the inside of her thigh teasingly along his chin. “I never said I’d make it easy for you to resist me, Sergeant.”

“Call me that one more time and you’re in trouble…” 

She has no idea how loaded a threat it is.

He nibbles her thigh and disappears between her legs before she can respond.

Bucky spreads her, not needing any more light than they have to see the intoxicating beauty of her glistening sex. He eyes her with rapturous hunger. She’s pearly and frothy with precum, dripping for him. Her labia is a blooming brown flower, her pink clit peeking out at him, her hole so small and tight his dick screams to be consumed by it. Darkly, he wonders (but also knows, deep down) if she’s a virgin. The thought is forbidden, but it makes his abdomen clench with desire. _This is dangerous, holy hell,_ **_this is dangerous_ **...but he can’t stop yet. 

He sticks his tongue inside her tight, wet hole and closes his mouth around her untouched sex, sucking her lips into his mouth and lapping at her juices with total abandon. Not just abandon. Reverence. Deep, unflinching devotion. He suspects, from her tentative hold on him at first and the way she’s already almost in tears, that she’s never had a man lick her like _this_. Regardless if he’s her first, he wants to be her last. He wants to make her come so intensely that she will want his tongue inside her any chance she can get. The way she commanded him suggests that she will do so again, and when she does, he knows he will obey. 

_He will obey,_ because her power over him is undeniable now. 

He listens to hear instructions in her soft, kitten-like moans as he licks her clit and sucks on it, dips his tongue inside her and covers her with his mouth. Lets her feel his strong tongue muscle undulate against her inner walls until her back arches clean off the bed. He loses himself in her soft, juicy sex, forgetting the guards in the palace, the mission, his nerves from this afternoon, the incredibly long journey he still has to make to truly call her his, even her brother telling him she’s too young and precious to love like this. 

All he sees, tastes, smells and feels is his princess.

Sunshine moans and mewls and whimpers and rides his tongue as quietly as she can, pulling at his hair to keep herself from yelling. He lets her go and rises a little to watch her closely for her reaction as he gently inserts one of his flesh fingers inside. “Do you like this?” he asks, fingering her slowly, “my tongue inside you? My fingers?”

Her eyes flutter open and she meets his gaze long enough for her to nod eagerly before slipping shut again to let him continue. Bucky watches every ripple of pleasure that passes across her gorgeous face while he gently, expertly, intensely builds her pleasure to climax with his fingers, occasionally leaning forward to lick and kiss at her clit and her raw pink center until she’s soaked. Finally, she seizes up with a gut punch of an orgasm, flooding his mouth with warm, sticky-sweet cum. She starts moaning loudly enough to warrant him sliding upward to wrap his vibranium arm around her and absorb the sound with a deep kiss. When she tastes herself on his lips and tongue, she grinds into his fingers, her breasts rising and falling against his chest as she breathes through her orgasm. 

Bucky lets her go, eases back down, his shoulder blades and back a playground for her roaming fingers, and licks her clean, snaking his tongue into every fold of her that he can. He could eat her out forever, she’s so soft and tender and fragrant. He feels he wants to be here, staring up at her adoringly from the apex of her thighs, soaked in her sex, every night. 

He kisses her labia and the insides of her slender thighs before finally letting her go. He sits up, moving to stand at the foot of the bed, gazing down at the state of her, his bulge standing at full attention. He can’t ignore it, but he doesn’t see a way to do anything about it. Not here. This wasn’t about his pleasure, anyway, only hers. Still, he wants her, _so badly._

“You’re _very_ good at that,” she sighs, unfurling like a cat, closing her legs gracefully and crawling toward him. She’s on him, her slinky body against his, in a breath. “Were you holding back under the tree?”

“I’ve been thinking about it since then,” he confesses, his voice deep and whisper-soft, thick with the taste of her. She giggles again, kissing him, one hand snaking around his neck, the other moving downward. Bucky’s breath hitches and he finds her hand, pausing its momentum at the base of his abs. “Sunshine…” he warns, though in truth, he isn’t sure how much resistance he can truly muster at this point. About zero if she keeps going.

“Are you trying to displease me after getting me off so well, Ingcuka?”

Her voice is so sweet, musical, and _sexy_ uttering such things against his lips. He leans into her, his jaw clenching, wanting this so badly it hurts. But it is not a good idea, by any stretch. 

“I’m trying to keep from being banished my first night on the job, doll.”

Shuri smiles, empathy for his plight flashing in her eyes before it disappears again. She _tsks_ at him, kissing his chin, Adam’s apple, and neck again as she slips her hand from his and continues reaching down into his pants. “Silly Ingucka,” she whines, her soft hand closing around his girth. “You haven’t read the laws, have you? They are very specific. They don’t say a single word about _this…_ ” Bucky exhales sharply as she begins to stroke him, pulling his long, heavy, hard dick gently out of the prison of his pants to cradle against her smooth, warm stomach. She lets out a little huff of surprise, perhaps even intimidation, once he’s free. She quickly moves past that, however, and begins to work him to a fever pitch. Now it’s _his_ turn to go breathless.

She is unpracticed, but firm and confident nonetheless, causing him to capture her mouth and kiss her passionately to the rhythm of her stroking. She experimentally rakes her thumb over his swollen head and uses his oozing precum to lubricate the way for her. “Princess, _please…_ ”

“Please, what?” She doesn’t stop. Only kisses his neck, causing him to shiver. She’s obviously enraptured by the power exchange. 

“Don’t stop.” Bucky pulls her into him with a vibranium arm around her tiny waist, his flesh hand reaching down to aid her, steady and speed up her rhythm. He is aware, god, too aware, that just beneath her slinky nightgown, her sex is naked, wet, and ready for him. Just the thought...of taking her right now...toys with him as he kisses and helps her stroke him until he’s on the precipice, about to leap off. “Right there...Sunshine...I’m...ugh…”

His eyes are still shut and he has no time to stop her before she’s on her knees in front of him. In the next second, just as he cums, her hot, silky tongue is sliding along his shaft while her hand continues stroking, and a second after that he’s going down her throat. She gags at first, but quickly recovers, moaning around him. He wants to tell her **_no_ ** , but he doesn’t, because he’s coming hard...damn it...no...yes... _god yes._

Before she lets him go, Shuri’s tongue does almost obscene things, causing Bucky serious distress for how good it feels on him. She does it sweetly, indulgently, smiling, _proud of herself._

It’s so sexy to watch, but it practically gives him a heart attack. She lets him slide out of her mouth, licking her honey lips, gazing up at him with damp eyes. So gorgeous. “How was that?”

He puts himself away and picks her up off of her knees, kissing her fiercely. “ _Amazing._ You didn’t have to do that. All I care about is pleasing _you_.”

Shuri nuzzles her nose into his cleft. “I wanted to.” A mischievous gleam mingles with the firelight in her eyes. “I’ve been thinking about it, too.”

“You’re gonna get me in trouble, aren’t you, princess?”

She kisses him softly, wrapping both arms around his neck. “Only the good kind.”

Bucky smiles and just holds her, swaying slightly with her, so damn in love with her. It’s hard to care about anything but her right now. He knows that he has to let her go and send her back to her room soon, if he’s smart. 

But right now, all he wants...all he needs...is this. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for the delay! I agonized over this one. I hope you enjoy and yeesh do I have plans for these two. They will have an entire continental tour and plenty of places to avoid prying eyes and oops I've said too much. 
> 
> Naturally, the rest of the plot will continue to kick on as well. Thanks so much for sticking with me. It's a wee late here so I will answer your reviews as soon as I've caught up on some much needed sleep!
> 
> -MM


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